


illicit affairs

by melfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Smut, Wholesome Love, no room for toxic wasteland bullshit here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-04
Packaged: 2021-03-08 23:13:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 36,175
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27374767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melfoy/pseuds/melfoy
Summary: After Harry Potter asks the reader to keep an eye on Malfoy's suspicious behaviour in-house, she begins to get a little too close for comfort. (Draco x Slytherin!Reader)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Original Female Character(s), Draco Malfoy/Reader
Comments: 3
Kudos: 51





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I have originally only been posting this on Tumblr, but have decided to add it on here, too, due to a lot of cases of plagiarism happening in the community! I hope you all enjoy! For every chapter, I have a song recommendation that relates in some way to the mood and/or characters. 
> 
> Song Rec: You Seemed So Happy - The Japanese House

It was 10:39 according to the clock tower that stood tall near the train station, surrounded by grey sky. Despite how overcast the sky was, it was a particularly humid day, and you were getting extremely flustered as you ran you towards the entrance of Kings Cross. Dressed in a white shirt and grey trousers, your father was pulling your trunk in one arm behind him. Late, as usual, having gone for your annual ‘Pre-Hoggy Breakfast’ in a quiet café and leisurely prowled the second-hand Muggle bookshops.

“If you need anything, anything at all, just send me your owl, but please try and do it out of work hours. Last time that bastard thing flew into the office, Bill from accounts nearly had a bloody heart attack!” he wheezed as he dragged your trunk along, his other arm flailing in the air, hitting a woman’s large black hat off her head. He didn’t even turn around as he shouted his apology, determined to get you to your destination.

You would have laughed but you were so out of breath you couldn’t manage it. You ended up tugging at his arm to stop him, just before entering the station. “I’ll be okay, Dad, promise,” you took a good 30 seconds to catch your breath. “I’ll send my owl on Sunday morning, as normal. I love you. Please, please look after yourself!” you pressed, almost scolding him.

His eyes - ones you definitely inherited - began to swell and your stomach sank. This never got any easier. “Yes, I know, don’t worry about me,” he took a deep breath, still gasping, “Your Mum did a marvellous job at making sure I was always alert,” he let out a breathy laugh. “She would be so proud of you, munchkin” he said and twiddled your chin. You sighed as you pulled him in for a hug. You dreaded leaving him on his own, but you had no choice. 

In all honesty, you knew he was better off in the Muggle world and in the home your mother had charmed and warded to keep you all safe. Still, you didn’t know how far the Death Eaters were willing to go, or how much interest they still had in your family. They had been attacking anyone and everyone by the looks of the Prophet over the summer, and you knew someone was bound to still hold a grudge. But you had to be positive, or you’d go mental. Bad things don’t always happen, and you knew you had to savour every last moment you had at Hogwarts, just in case you never got to return after graduating. And that is what you planned to do.

“Y/N!” you heard a boy shout, and you lifted your head. Harry Potter was smiling widely, as he, Hermione Granger and the Weasley clan made their way toward you. They were all matching in browns and blues, apart from Hermione who wore a soft pink cardigan, and who’s hair was exceptionally bushy. She seemed to have a recovering black eye.

“Hey, Harry! Hi, guys. Hello, Mr Weasley, Mrs Weasley! What happened to your eye, Hermione?” you let your curiosity get the better of you, and she blushed a deep red before muttering something about the Weasley twins and how their prototypes need destroyed. You watched in amusement as Mr Weasley immediately greeted your father, barely even looking your way before asking him questions about his journey here and how the Muggle world were coping with the attacks. Your father quickly excused himself for a moment to look to you and say your final goodbyes.

“I’ll keep you updated on how things go, and you do the same. Have an amazing first term. Now, off you go, you’re gonna to miss the train! I’ll see you at Christmas. I love you.”

“Love you! See you at Christmas,” you said after a quick hug, taking your trunk and waving him goodbye, walking into the sea of muggles and wizards alike.

On the way to the platform you threw yourself into conversation with Ginny Weasley, so as to avoid any more thoughts about your father being alone for the next few months. You learned she was loved-up with Dean Thomas, and that her brother Bill was happily engaged to Fleur Delacour, which she, herself, was extremely unhappy about. Her impression of Fleur’s thick French accent, which included hocking up phlegm, made you throw your head back in laughter and by the time you got on to the platform, the weight on your chest had lifted considerably.

She didn’t hang around for long, however, as her new beau practically swooped her up on to the train, and before you could get a foot on yourself, Harry asked if he could have a word with you. He led you under of the pillars, near enough to a train compartment door so that you could jump on if need be, given that it must be 10:55 by now.

“Listen, Y/N, I’ve got a favour to ask.” Harry said quietly, as Ron and Hermione stared at him blankly. They were obviously just as confused as you were. “Well, you see, I think Malfoy is-” Harry didn’t get another word out before Hermione slapped his arm.

“Harry, come off it!” she whisper-shouted. “You’re going to get yourself into more trouble than it’s worth if you keep mentioning it!” Well, now you were curious. Why in Merlin’s dirty socks does he want to talk to you about Draco Malfoy? You weren’t exactly friends with the boy.

“Hermione, I know what I’m doing!” he glared at her before holding his arm and continuing. “Look, Y/N, it’s a long story, but if you see Malfoy up to anything dodgy, please could you let me know? I know it probably sounds mad, but I’ve got good reason to believe he’s up to something bad and you’re in the same house and everything, so you’ll probably see more than me. Plus, he doesn’t hate you so he probably won’t notice if you’re around more than usual.”

You laughed despite the pit in your stomach, “Malfoy’s always up to no good, so I doubt I’ll see much out of the ordinary. But, sure, if I see anything of particular interest, I’ll let you know. Does this have anything to do with his father?” you asked, acutely aware of the fact that Lucius Malfoy had been thrown into Azkaban at the end of the last school year for his involvement with the Death Eaters. This troubled you immensely, given your own circumstances, as you now didn’t even know who you could trust in your own house.

No one in Slytherin, or at Hogwarts - including Malfoy - had ever given you trouble about your half-blood status, or the fact your mother was a ‘blood-traitor’ and your father a muggle. You knew if anyone had anything to say about the matter, they would not say it to your face. This, you also knew, was because your mother had been a very well-respected Ministry official and came from a registered Sacred Twenty-Eight family. This was lucky for you, but you were well aware of what would be said behind closed doors, in certain circles.

“Probably,” he sighed.

“Well,” you started, “I have to do prefect duty with him on the train, so I’ll let you know if he says anything… dodgy.” He thanked you before leaving and disappearing on to the train, probably in search of Malfoy. You wondered what the long story was that caused Harry to have such an interest in the blond boy’s comings and goings.

“Sorry about him, Y/N, I swear once he gets something into his head there’s really no stopping him.” Hermione said extremely quickly, and Ron blinked at her.

“It’s no trouble, but I don’t really want to stick my neck too far into Malfoy’s-”

“Yes?” you froze as you heard the familiar drawl and watched as the white-haired boy turned to you. You worried about how much of that sentence he heard. 

“Erm…” you swallowed and watched as Ron and Hermione quickly snuck away from this mess, before looking back at Draco. He was wearing a silk black shirt with the first few buttons undone, and he was so close that you caught the distinct scent of amber from his cologne. “Prefect duty. We have prefect duty to do.” Thank god, you didn’t have a clue what was going to come out of your mouth.

Malfoy’s face dropped and he groaned, looking like a child whose sweets had just been stolen from them. “Oh. I can’t really be arsed today, Y/L/N.”

“That’s sad. Don’t be a prefect, then.” You said in good humour as you began walking towards the train.

“Har har, very funny. Please could you just do it alone today?” he pleaded as he held the carriage door open for you and you climbed in. You turned to look at him and blinked at him in awe. Was he being serious?

You scanned for a hint of humour, but his face was stern and judging by hopeful look in his eyes, he was indeed being serious.

“Sorry what?” you turned back and continued walking down the passageway as the whistle blew.

“Come on! I’m really not in the mood to deal with first years today. Besides, Granger’s going to have her beak in every compartment all day anyway, she can’t bloody help herself, so we’ll have nothing to do! Come on, please?”

You stopped abruptly and turned to face him as the train jerked you forward, almost colliding with him as he was, once again, very close to you. You wondered why he was so desperate to get out of it and thought back to what Harry had said earlier. Whatever his reasoning, however, you had to admit that he was right. Hermione took prefect duty _very_ seriously and you wouldn’t end up having much to do. This meant he would owe you a favour without actually putting you out.

“Say ‘please’ again.” He did not look amused as you tilted your head and raised your eyebrows, expectantly, a small smile on your face giving you away completely, “I’m waiting.”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, “please.” His breath smelled like peppermint.

“Fine, but you owe me,” you said in all seriousness.

His eyes seemed to light up a little, and he put his hand to his heart. “Of course.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to seem more miffed than you were and continued toward the prefect carriage, leaving him to his endeavours. He couldn’t get into anything too sinister on the train, he probably just wanted to mess around with some girl.

When you got to the prefect carriage, Anthony Goldstein handed you a scroll of parchment tied with violet ribbon. “This was left for you by some third-year,” he shrugged. You took it from him, accidentally touching his hand as you did so, and he noticeably flushed. You unrolled the scroll, pretending not to notice, and read:

‘ _Miss Y/L/N,_

_I would be delighted if you would join me and some of your classmates for a spot of lunch in compartment C, so as to get to know you better before our forthcoming lessons._

_Sincerely, Professor H.E.F. Slughorn_ ’

“Professor Slughorn. Well, let’s hope he’s better than last year’s travesty,” you quipped which earned a few laughs.

“Oh, I’ve heard of him!” Padma squawked. “He taught when my mum was at school, she said he used to have fancy dinner parties for his favourite students.”

“Oh?” said Goldstein. This seemed to peak everyone’s interest.

“I wonder what he wants with me, then, because I certainly haven’t met him before,” you said thoughtfully. After a little discussion, you walked to compartment C, to find your housemate Blaise Zabini, a couple of boys from the year above, Ginny, Harry and Neville Longbottom. This was an odd bunch.

“Oh, dear,” said the man with the outrageous moustache, whom you assumed to be Professor Slughorn. He stood up, almost knocking over a plate of what seemed to be pheasant, “you must be Miss Y/L/N! Welcome, welcome! I’ve been most excited to meet you, what with your mother being the absolute delight that she was, I was overjoyed to hear that her very own daughter was here at Hogwarts!” you had not expected him to mention your mother, and that must have been evident on your face, as he quickly began fussing, “darling woman, your mother – oh, do sit down – I was very sorry to hear of it – is that comfortable? – terrible, terrible tragedy. She was one of my top students, along with Harry’s mother, of course. Lovely Lily. They were good friends, I believe, being in Gryffindor together.” You exchanged a glance with Harry. This was news to you, though quite welcome, if you had been in private to hear it. 

“You taught my mother? What was she like, when you knew her?” you asked kindly, trying not to give anything away as you felt every eye in the carriage on you. There wasn’t a person in Wizarding Britain who didn’t know what had happened to your mother, and the atmosphere in the compartment became extremely tense.

“Hot-headed and more than a little determined, I can tell you that! She was certainly the perfect fit for Gryffindor! Though, by your badge I can see you’re a member of my very own house!” he clapped, “oh marvellous! Your mother ought to be proud! Truly brilliant, she was,” his eyes glistened. “A born Auror, I always said so. Not unlike young Harry, here, I hear that is the route you’re thinking of taking, Harry?” he said joyously, and you were glad to no longer be the topic of conversation.

The afternoon continued with Slughorn trailing on about his famous ex-students, and the escapades of the ‘Slug Club’. Despite it being a little draining, you knew this was probably a good connection to have, so you kept an enthused and curious face throughout and made sure to listen to what he had to say. You were surprised Malfoy wasn’t invited to this little lunch, given how powerful his family are. Unless he purposefully declined to do whatever or whomever he was doing.

The sun eventually set, and you were released to get changed into your robes. You caught Hermione on your way and apologised about not being any help with patrolling. Luckily, she had brushed you off and said it was no trouble, and that the younger years were unusually well-behaved, apart from the odd use of a Weasley product.

You were glad to hear this this, because as you passed one particular carriage, you caught sight of your fellow Slytherin prefect with his head in Pansy Parkinson’s lap, while she gently stroked his hair. You caught his eye and he wiggled his eyebrows at you before you continued on to get changed. Of course, he’d spent the entire journey being babied because he was in a bad mood. You wished he would grow up. You also wished he would stop giving Pansy attention, because once you got to the dorms after dinner, Pansy did nothing but gush about how Draco comes to her when he needs some comfort. “I just love how much he trusts me,” she sighed. 

It had been a long and busy day, not giving you much time to worry about your father. Now that you were lying in silence, you had nothing but your thoughts.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Rec: The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Daphne’s snore roared through the dormitory and you shot up, ready to throw a pillow in her direction. She must have woken herself up, however, because she was looking very confused and wide-eyed, hanging off the edge of her bed. It seems she had woken the rest of the dorm apart from Tracey – who could sleep through a firework show – because a minute later Pansy and Millicent were also sat up in their beds, blinking at nothing in particular. It was 6.44 A.M. according to your bedside clock.

While you stood up and began to get dressed, everyone else huffed back under their duvets, trying to salvage as much sleep as possible before the first day back. You knew, however, no matter how hard you tried you would not fall back to sleep.

By the time you got to the Great Hall, it was around 7.15 and only a few early risers were there for their morning meal. Padma being one, looking extremely alert and ready for her day, and you decided to join her at the Ravenclaw table.

“Morning, Pads,” you greeted, plopping down on the bench in front of her. “You’re up early. Couldn’t sleep?”

“Oh, no! I had SUCH a good sleep and woke up naturally and everything! I never sleep well at home over the holidays, so I’m so glad to be back,” she bellowed, looking at you brightly, “how about you?”

“Meh. First night is always the hardest for me, but I’ll be out like a light tonight,” you said while watching Hermione sit down alone at the Gryffindor table. You caught her eye, smiled and waved her over.

“Hi guys,” she approached, looking flushed, “how are we?”

“Good,” replied Padma, “though I’m already dreading the amount of work we’re going to have.”

“Really? I can’t wait! I’m particularly excited for Arithmancy this year,” Hermione started, and the conversation ran smoothly over coffee and porridge for an hour. Eventually the owls came with the post, Harry stole back Hermione, and you re-joined the Slytherin table to receive your new timetable.

You had DADA, Arithmancy, and double Potions today. You also had prefect patrols tonight; your rounds had been scheduled for every Monday and every other Friday.

Daphne eventually emerged from slumber and, while pink in the ears, apologised for her snoring. You stuck around while she ate her breakfast, but Malfoy’s retelling of how he petrified Harry on the train and kicked him in the face made you wish you hadn’t. You had heard it three times last night: twice at the table where he re-enacted the way Harry’s nose exploded with grand hand gestures - obviously trying to get Harry’s attention from across the hall - and the third time had been a personal production, as he told you what happened while you both led the new first-years to the common room. You had turned around to look at the first years as he was expressing himself, and they were listening intently, looking positively terrified.

——-

As you walked through the dungeons and into the familiar Potions classroom, you noted that the room smelled distinctly of crystallised pineapple, though somehow also of peppermint, and you began to speculate when the first trip to Hogsmeade might be so you could visit Honeydukes. Hermione left you then, after your shared Arithmancy class, and sat with Harry, Ron and Ernie MacMillan.

Malfoy waltzed past you and you followed his lead, sitting next to him and across from Theo and Zabini. “Drown yourself in perfume, today, Y/L/N?” he questioned quietly, as he got his book out of his bag, and looked down at you with a small smirk. You didn’t know what attempt at banter this was, but you replied with a whine and said, “oh, don’t you like it? I picked it especially for you,” giving him a pouty face. He gave a breathy laugh and the smell of peppermint swirled around you so strongly that it impaired your vision.

“Merlin, did you swallow the entire bottle of mouthwash this morning, Malfoy? Your breath is _fresh_ ,” you laughed. He gave you an incredulous look, and before he could retort, Professor Slughorn waddled into the classroom and began to speak. You did not, however, hear a word he said, because the only thing you could focus on was the very strong scent of amber that sharply flooded through your nostrils and whirled around your head. You wondered if Draco was projecting when he joked about your perfume and if he, in fact, had drowned himself in cologne. You began to feel incredibly content and relaxed, and let out a dreamy sigh, plopping your head in your hand.

“Now then,” said Slughorn, walking to the front of the class, rubbing his palm on his tweed waist coat., “I’ve prepared a few potions for you to have a look at, just out of interest, you know. These are the kind of things you ought to be able to make after completing your N.E.W.T.s. You ought to have heard of ‘em, even if you haven’t made ‘em yet. Can anyone tell me what this one might be?”

He nodded towards the cauldron closest to your table, and you heard a stool scratch against the floor as Hermione’s hand shot up. You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. Malfoy tutted.

You listened casually to the back and forth of Hermione and the Potions Professor, until Hermione cried, “it’s the most powerful love potion in the world!” of the Amortentia in the cauldron near the Ravenclaws. This peaked everyone’s interest.

“Quite right! You recognised it, I suppose, by its distinctive mother-of-pearl sheen?” Slughorn replied, looking extremely impressed with the Gryffindor.

“And the steam rising in characteristic spirals,” said Hermione, red in the face as though she may burst, “and it’s supposed to smell differently to us, according to what attracts us, and I can smell freshly mown grass and new parchment and –”

As she rambled and conversed with the Professor, you watched as everyone in the classroom began to shift in their seats, looking either positively mortified or wildly curious. You heard Malfoy inhale dramatically through his nose next to you, and then sigh in defeat. He squirmed around on his stool, accidentally kneeing you in the leg. You decided to stay completely still and breathe as normal, trying to decipher yours on your own.

Definitely crystallised pineapple, peppermint, and…. well truthfully, the only other thing you could smell was the resilient amber from Draco’s cologne. You let out a small cough. 

“No, I don’t think so, sir,” you heard Hermione say. “I’m Muggle-born, you see.” Malfoy and Nott sniggered, and you immediately felt as if you had been whacked with a beater’s bat. You didn’t dare to look at them.

These moments never failed to trigger some fight or flight response. You’d always forget they were bound to happen until they did, once again reminding you exactly who you are. What would they say if you ever mentioned your father to them? Would they laugh, or sneer at you? Would it matter to them if you told them he was the kindest, and most incredible man you knew? You knew it wouldn’t, though there was a time where you thought it would.

You recalled your first year at Hogwarts, when Draco would ask you about your father and Muggle life with genuine and innocent curiosity. You don’t think he had much idea of what he was supposed to believe in, back then. None of you did.

His eyes, you had memorised, had shone bright with excitement and his laughter filled the common room when you told him about the first time you flew on an airplane with your parents; you had been so nervous that you started causing major turbulence to the plane and accidentally transformed the lettuce in your father’s sandwich into a thousand little spiders. He hopped about and shouted so loudly that he was threatened with being detained. Your mother tried to distract you with your favourite sweets – crystallised pineapple – before eventually using the old _Petrificus Totalus_ and keeping you in the petrified state, hidden under a blanket, until you had safely landed.

Draco sent you a humongous box of crystallised pineapple for Christmas that year.

Your ability to talk to him about your family ended in your second year, after you heard the whole school talking about him calling Hermione Granger a ‘mudblood’ for the whole Quidditch pitch to hear. You couldn’t lie and say it didn’t break your heart.

You would have screamed at the boy if you had known what to say, but you couldn’t find the words. You were young and scared and had no idea how to stand up against this kind of prejudice. Your mother had warned you of what some people in the wizarding community believed, but you had never expected it of your friends.

After that incident, you tried to avoid him wherever you could. He remained a friendly acquaintance, always civil to each other, and you could tell he didn’t understand why you were drifting away.

When your mother’s death flooded the papers in the summer after third year, he wrote personally to give his condolences, sending a large bouquet of white hydrangeas and this time, a small box of crystallised pineapple. In your broken state, you had warmed to him once again for that, but by the time you returned to school for your fourth year, your heart had hardened and knew to keep a relatively safe distance from everyone in your house, including Draco.

As he stood up to follow Slughorn’s instructions, you looked at him. He had grown considerably taller over the summer, and thus thinner. His facial features were sharper, and less boyish. His eyes were harder. You concluded this all had to do with the fact his father was now in Azkaban, and that his summer had not been a cheerful one.

You wondered what awful deed Harry believed him to be up to.

——-

Your task of the lesson had been to brew an acceptable draft of Living Death, and to say your outcome was a travesty was putting it lightly. You had been convinced throughout the lesson that this was some sort of first-day-back prank, because you were nowhere near bad at potions, and your sudden lack of talent had you ready to scream down the castle in frustration. Fortunately for you, no one but Harry Potter managed to do much of a good job. Harry, himself, looked rather shocked that he’d even managed to accomplish what he did, though Slughorn was convinced it was in his genes and was praising him to the heavens. That boy and his bloody luck – which he now had even _more_ of given that the prize for the best brewed potion was literally a vial of luck.

The Professor tried and failed miserably to hide his grimace at your completed disaster that was glowing neon green and looking extremely radioactive. Every few minutes it would form a large, thin bubble that would increase to double the size of the cauldron, and then _pop!_ and slowly form a new bubble.

Malfoy’s potion next to you was neither better nor worse, just incredibly different. It was a dark purple hue and gave off tall, swirling tendrils of thick, black smoke. He looked furious and was irritably scratching the back of his neck.

You ignored him, feeling reasonably put out at the events of the past two hours, and started packing up your belongings. Anthony Goldstein appeared next to you, looking sheepish. “Hey, Y/N, we’re having an Arithmancy study group on Thursday morning if you’d like to come?”

“Yes, of course,” you smiled kindly, “in the library?”

“Actually, Hermione asked if –” his voice was interrupted by Malfoy’s scales clattering loudly against the floor, “erm… if we could have it in the Ravenclaw common room. Come by for nine o’clock and I’ll let you in!” he beamed.

“Sounds great,” you replied, “I’ll be there.” You watched him walk away before you moved yourself.

When you arrived at your dorm, Pansy was lying on top of her four-poster bed, swinging her feet and reading an issue of Witch Weekly. Daphne was sat at her desk, humming a sweet melody and writing a letter, and Tracey was doing homework at the foot of her bed, looking rather like she was in pain.

“I wouldn’t use the bathroom, Y/N, Tracey was in there for twenty minutes,” Pansy cackled, now shifting to hang upside down off the edge of her bed, her magazine floating in front of her face.

You jokingly groaned, faking irritation, “Tracey! Not again!”

She spluttered, red in the face, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN, NOT AGAIN? THIS ISN’T A REGULAR BLOODY OCCURRENCE! IT’S JUST THIS ONE TIME!” you and the other girls couldn’t control your laughter as she screamed, “IT’S NOT FUNNY!”

Dropping your bag on the floor, still chuckling, you fell on to your bed and let out a tired sigh. “I just want to sleep,” you groaned, pulling yourself into the fetal position.

“No,” Daphne protested, “dinner first!” She sealed her letter and held it up to show you. “Third year lucky, do you reckon?” 

Pansy laughed, eyebrows raised in pure disbelief and said, “you need to give it up, you’re not the next Fleur Delacour, and that’s that.”

“I could be,” she moped. Daphne had been obsessed with the idea of transferring to Beauxbatons since the school visited for the Triwizard Tournament, and she saw the pretty blue silk dresses the girls wore as uniform. Since then, she would end every letter to her parents with something along the lines of ‘P.S. Any update on my transfer to Beauxbatons? It’s freezing here at Hogwarts. I have a constant cold. Love you, Daphne.’

“It’s not just that anymore, though.” She glanced in your direction. “It’s probably good to get out of the country, you know. Things are getting pretty scary.”

“Well, you won’t end up bloody going.” Pansy said hotly, looking at the brunette with a disgruntled frown.

Tracey closed her book and said, “Yeah, my mum is just about ready to jump ship. She keeps saying we should move to Italy.” Pansy tutted loudly and went back to reading, evidently over the conversation.

“Italy is nice,” you said gently, now staring at the ceiling, not really wanting to get involved further than that with Pansy in the room.

“Ugh!” Pansy slammed her magazine shut and stood up, “I don’t know what you’re all on about! I’m going to dinner.” She stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her, and you all looked at each other knowingly. Pansy was someone you could never trust.

You listened as Daphne and Tracey continued their conversation, too tired to participate. Eventually Millicent arrived and dragged you up from the bed when you claimed you were too exhausted to go down to dinner.

“Oi, Y/L/N,” you heard, and your dorm-mates continued to walk ahead of you as you turned around, “don’t forget we have our rounds tonight.” It was Malfoy. He was sat alone on the rug by the fire, an open book in his lap, and his fingers pulling at his bottom lip as he looked at you. Something swirled in your chest.

“Yeah, I hadn’t. Dinner?” you asked, gesturing to doorway. He just shook his head and his tapped his book. Pansy was sat on the sofa near him, watching him intently, and you imagined she would stay and wait, so she could eat with him. You nodded and left without saying anything else, catching up to your dorm-mates on the stairs.

——-

You dragged yourself hastily to the common room when it neared ten o’clock. The amount you had eaten at dinner only encouraged your already exhausted state, after your early start that morning, and you couldn’t stop yourself from falling asleep with your quill still in-hand. Tracey had shouted your name in your ear to wake you up for your rounds, which caused you to flick ink all over her.

When you got to the quiet common room Malfoy was already there, leaning against one of the black leather sofas, where sat a third year charming their toad to float in the air. He was staring blankly at a portrait on the wall, yawning and twiddling his thumbs.

“Wotcher,” you said, and he looked up, startled, just as you began to yawn. You quickly covered your mouth and walked with little enthusiasm towards him.

“Alright?” he nodded, lifting himself up and began walking toward the entrance, robes billowing behind him.

You barely got around the corner of the first corridor before you yawned again, ending your complaint about how you were still exceedingly stuffed from all of the pudding you ate at dinner. He just hummed in acknowledgement before opening the door to the Entrance Hall stairs, letting you through first.

You climbed silently, and once you reached the centre of the dark hall, both of you seemed lost at what to do next. You walked with him slowly to the bottom of the marble staircase, realising you had no clue where in the castle you were supposed to be patrolling, forgetting to check in your exhausted state. You looked up at him and asked, “do you know where we’re supposed to go? I forgot,” stifling yet another yawn.

He looked down at you, taking a second before raising his eyebrows. “That’s because only the good prefects can remember that kind of information.” He turned and began walking up the stairs.

You couldn’t control the scoff that came out of your mouth. “Oh, of course you consider yourself a ‘good’ prefect, Mr. Please Y/L/N, I can’t deal with first years, please do my job for me!”

“That isn’t what I said,” he started in a haughty tone, “I said I wasn’t in the _mood_ to deal with first years!” He then turned around and looked at you expectantly, as though he had fought himself a pretty good case.

“That still proves my point – not a good prefect!”

“Well I didn’t say that,” he remarked.

“Say what?”

“ _That!_ ” He stomped on to the first landing, twirling around and looking at you with his silver eyes, once again as though you should understand whatever was happening. You were too tired for this.

“I don’t understand,” you said, as you caught up to him and watched as he looked rapidly between the two staircases to your left and right. He dashed for the left staircase and started climbing far too quickly for your worn-out state to copy. You trudged along behind him, and he called for you to keep up.

“Where are we even going!?” you asked, eyes bulging out of your head.

“I _told_ you, only good prefects can have that kind of information,” he turned, giving you an unusually wolfish smile. You sighed dramatically and silently followed him, unable to even argue. He finally slowed down and began to dawdle alongside you.

You trotted along in silence for about 20 minutes through random dimly lit corridors and up who-knows-how-many staircases before you felt your brain about to collapse. “You don’t have any Wideye potion on you, do you?” you asked hopefully. This was going to be a long night, otherwise. You would have to request some from Madame Pompfrey for future patrols.

He shook his head. “Nope.”

“Oh,” you sighed, “can we talk about something, then? I’m going to start sleep walking otherwise.” You felt some embarrassment for asking this, but it was now essential you had some form of brain stimulation.

He looked down and seemed to analyse you. “Well I _was_ enjoying the quiet,” he jibed.

“Too bad.” You tried to smile but that would take more vitality than you currently had. You had absolutely no idea what to talk about. You couldn’t ask him about his summer or talk about his family. Definitely too sore a subject. 

Before you could even think of a topic, however, he asked, “what do you think of Slughorn?” nonchalantly, not seeming to be particularly interested in his own question. You were thankful for the effort.

“Strange,” you considered, “but probably good to have on your side. He seems to know everyone.” He hummed in agreement. “You?”

“I guess we’ll see what he’s like. Already right up Potter’s arse, though.” If he didn’t want to sound bitter, he didn’t hide it very well.

“Isn’t everyone?” you joked, and he rolled his eyes.

“You included,” he pronounced, looking at you for less than second. His bitterness continued.

“Well he’s not _my_ mortal enemy,” you laughed. He didn’t. Try again, you thought. “No, we just… get on well. I don’t have any personal problems with him,” you said softly, trying to make sure he understood.

He glanced down at you a little bit longer this time, before lightly remarking, “you get on _‘well’_ with everyone. You should have been a Hufflepuff.”

You raised an eyebrow at this. “I have to disagree,” you started, noticing how snooty your tone had gotten, “I think it’s a perfect example of Slytherin-ness. It’s beneficial to have friends wherever you go.”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, and you watched as the cogs turn in his head. He then looked down at you swiftly with a smirk and said, “maybe you’ll be the next Slughorn.”

You tutted and slapped his arm with the back of your hand in offence. “I would make a better Slughorn than Slughorn does himself,” you teased. “Although, he is fitter than me, I’ll give him that.” Malfoy choked on a laugh, his eyes glistening, and you beamed as he looked at you. You could only imagine how goofy you looked with your tired eyes and wide smile.

It was silent for too long, the moment almost passing, before he took a sharp inhale and said, “yes, all I could think about this afternoon was how fit he looked,” rather sternly, his eyebrows furrowed as if he was thinking of something else entirely.

“Oh, no doubt,” you replied. “All I could smell from that Amortentia was the pheasant that I watched him eat on the train. I think he’s the one.” His lips turned into a small smile and he let out a breathy laugh, peering down a passageway as he did so.

He didn’t say anything else as he led you up another set of stairs, but when you got to the top he asked, in a monotonous drawl, “what could you smell?” He kept his steely grey eyes straight ahead and didn’t look for your reaction, fortunately, because you felt yourself flush.

You continued to walk and tried to think about his question. There wasn’t anything necessarily incriminating in what you could smell in that classroom. They were just random things you obviously really liked the smell of – just because they all managed to find a home in _him_ didn’t necessarily have to mean anything.

You thought about playing dumb, but instead decided to vaguely say, “crystallised pineapple,” and see if he was satisfied.

He didn’t breathe for a few seconds, and then took in a large breath through his nose, still not looking in your direction. “Anything else? I could smell more than one thing.” He almost sounded bored. You felt an urgency to find out what he had smelled, though you dared not to ask. Dangerous game, that.

“Erm, yeah… peppermint and something else… I’m not too sure what it was, though,” you lied. You didn’t like this conversation at all. “Where are we?” you decided to query, changing the subject and stopping in your tracks. You assumed you were on the Seventh Floor, but all of the corridors were looking the same at this point.

Malfoy stopped and examined your face in the torch light for a moment. The light from the flames bounced against his pale skin. He shrugged after a couple of seconds, looking at the surrounding area curiously.

“What do you mean? Is this not where we’re supposed to be patrolling?” you probed. What was he playing at?

“I don’t know, I told you! Only good prefects have that kind of information,” he quipped, trying to control a smirk and following with, “so _I_ haven’t got a clue.”

Oh –

“You little shit.” He started laughing a little too hard at himself and began strutting down the corridor. “You’ve been waiting to say that all night, haven’t you? Oh my God!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Rec: Bad For You (Acoustic) - The Hunna

_“Stanley Shunpike, conductor of the popular wizarding conveyance the Knight Bus, has been arrested on suspicion of Death Eater activity. Mr Shunpike, 21, was taken into custody late last night after a raid on his Clapham home …”_

‘Bloody rubbish,’ Draco thought. The Ministry didn’t even know where to begin looking; he was sure they were just arresting random people to make it look like they were doing something.

He slapped the newspaper onto the table and lifted his head to listen to whatever drivel his housemates were spouting.

“Oh, I do wish I was going,” Millicent moaned, “it’ll be a right laugh. I like Slughorn a lot.”

“He’s irritating,” said Blaise, rolling his eyes and tapping his finger against his goblet.

They were talking about the dinner party Slughorn was having next week. Draco was still bitter about not being invited. He knew it must be because his father was currently in a prison cell, but he was still a Malfoy! Better than that bloody Weasley who just hexed someone and managed to get an invite. He knew he shouldn’t care, he had bigger things to deal with this year, but even so, it could have been useful for him to go.

“I don’t know why Y/N was invited instead of you, Draco,” Pansy said, rubbing her hand on his forearm, “No offence to her, but she’s not exactly special, is she?” She laughed to herself. “Do dead mothers get you _everything_? I mean, it’s gotten Potter his fame and fortune.” Blaise sniggered at that.

Draco rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath, mumbling an excuse to leave. He decided to go to the Room of Requirement before first period.

Three hours passed before he even noticed. He missed all of his morning classes. 

He tried every spell he could think of - multiple times - trying to send an apple through to the other cabinet, but it wouldn’t budge. Ultimately, he’d gotten so frustrated he hit his hand against the side of the cabinet a few times before sliding down it. All he could think about was what would happen to his mother if he didn’t get this done.

He had to get this done by Christmas at the latest, because he knew the Dark Lord had plans to move into his ancestral home then. If he failed him, or made a wrong move, his mother would be in fatal danger. Merlin, not that she wasn’t already. He worried about her constantly – she was stuck with his aunt Bellatrix, while his father was safely locked up in Azkaban where no one could touch him. Leaving Draco to fix his catastrophic fucking mess. He needed to do this for his mother’s sake.

His chest was beginning to become incredibly heavy, and he was having trouble breathing. He tried to untie his tie and unbutton his shirt, but that did nothing. Beads of sweat began to drip down his neck, and his hands began to shake. Spots started to appear in front of him, and he could barely see straight.

He dry-heaved. 

He was going to vomit.

He ran as quickly as he could out of the room and down the corridor to the bathroom, his hands collapsing onto the cold porcelain sink. His breath was ragged, and he tried desperately to slow it down.

His legs eventually gave out and he sat on the floor in front of the sink, praying that no one else was in the bathroom, because he couldn’t help the tears that began to rush down his face.

“Oh, sweetie, what’s wrong?” he heard a voice say.

——-

“Nott, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m going to hex you into next week.” Goyle’s voice boomed through the dorm. Draco groaned and opened his eyes to see Nott getting dressed and Goyle sitting up in his bed, rubbing his eyes. He had a large pillow mark down the left side of his face and a drool stain by his mouth.

“Sorry you’re such a lazy fucker,” Nott started while tying his tie, “but some of us actually do our work.”

“Will you _both_ shut up?” Draco barked, pulling his pillow over his head. He was so tired. His body felt weak. After he’d gone to the bathroom yesterday, he spent an hour on the cold floor. Moaning Myrtle had tried to get him to talk to her, but he couldn’t say much. She talked to him instead, until he felt better. She talked about what it was like being dead, and how lonely she felt. Draco’s thoughts eventually reared from his own problems and he listened to her stories.

He got tired of listening to her at one point, and so decided to tell her he needed to leave for dinner. He did not go to dinner. He couldn’t just miss a day of classes and turn up to dinner like nothing was wrong, so instead he went to his dormitory, got himself into bed and feigned being ill. He got up after everyone had gone to bed and went back to the Room of Requirement. No luck, once again.

The bloody thing was still dormant, and though he’d only been trying for almost a week, he was already beginning to doubt his ability to fix it. He was clever, but what if he wasn’t clever enough?

At least he had part of his plan sorted. He was going to owl Borgin today to put the cursed necklace that he had seen on his last visit on hold, and get it delivered to The Three Broomsticks in about 5 weeks - just before the first Hogsmeade trip. This was the part of the plan that made Draco rife with apprehension. At any point of any day, Madam Rosmerta could wake up from the Imperius Curse he had placed on her in the summer. This was unlikely to be any time soon, but he still could never be sure. If that happened, he would be found out.

His stomach flipped at the thought.

‘This _will_ work,’ he told himself. ‘Just go back to sleep, it will be fine. It will all be okay.’

He managed to drift back to sleep once the voices died down, and he began dreaming that he was walking through the Forbidden Forest. 

_It was a warm afternoon, and though the sun was fierce, the forest was eerie and filled with shadows. He walked alone for a while before he caught Snape standing by a clearing, where the sun beamed down. He walked towards him, about to ask him what he was doing, but the man spoke first. “Careful, Draco,” he said firmly, looking down at him with black eyes._

_He didn’t need to listen to him, he knew what he was doing. Draco walked past him and into the clearing, which was then suddenly the gardens at the Manor. It was now nightfall, and the stars above him shone brightly. He felt a calling and walked towards the summer house. There was a soft breeze on his skin as he approached the large white hydrangea bushes that surrounded the little cottage. He reached out to pick a flower, but the second he touched it, the leaves began to grow around his hand. He didn’t resist._

_The vines continued to sprout up his arm, small flowers blooming as they grew, and eventually wrapped around his neck. “Draco, you can’t do this alone,” a voice said._

_He knew who spoke, though he couldn’t see her. “Here,” she said. “Let me help you.” He felt wet hands wrap around his neck and dig under the vines, pulling them loose. Lips pressed against his ear, she whispered, “a little bit of help never hurt anyone.”_

_He turned around and embraced her, head burrowing into her neck, and her perfume filled his brain. “I missed you,” he whispered, not knowing if he really wanted her to hear it. She shouldn’t know._

_“I’m always with you, silly,” she said, pulling away from him. Finally seeing her, he realised she was covered in blood, from the neck down – her Slytherin robes completely soaked. The word ‘traitor’ carved deep and messily into her forehead. Just like her mother._

“Oi, get up you tosser, it’s lunchtime!” He was pulled awake. “We’ve got Transfiguration in an hour,” Nott hollered, sandwich in one hand, pillow that he’d just used to hit Draco with in the other. But Draco couldn’t move.

He was shaking, and his bed was as hot as a furnace. Sweat clung to his neck and mid-back. He lay still, unable to force himself back into reality. He waited until Theo left the room and let out an enormous breath, before pulling himself up to get ready.

——-

The fire blazed brightly next to Draco as he sat with his homework in front of him on the floor. He liked to sit by the fire, the heat giving him a strange comfort. He’d have to reposition himself constantly, so as to not burn his skin, but that was part of the joy.

He was currently sat against the sofa, Pansy’s hands railing through his hair as she did her own homework. He didn’t mind it. He liked how much she doted on him, and oftentimes she was a welcome distraction. He knew he’d probably need her more this term, he’d need more… distracting, though he didn’t want to abuse her obvious affection for him.

Not only would it cause more drama than he had time for, but she was probably his closest friend. While he had lots of friends in his house, he’d barely speak anything of worth to them; nothing that ever came from his heart. It was all surface level conversation. While he still didn’t do much expressing of his feelings with Pansy, he was certain she would never judge him. Never leave him.

A loud, screeching laugh came from the other side of the common room, and he turned his head to look. It was Tracey Davis, and she was holding her belly and throwing her head back in laughter as Y/N spoke quickly to her.

Y/N’s face was sunny and animated, turning a bright shade of pink as she continued her conversation. “I couldn’t possibly,” he heard her say, “I am not that kind of girl.” She was looking at her friend with an uncontrollable smile, eyes glimmering with amusement.

He could have ripped his heart out right there and handed it to her.

He would always become overwhelmed when he saw her like this – especially when she was talking to him. Making her laugh was a feeling comparable to none.

Nonetheless, she was often hot and cold with him – never constant, as if she couldn’t decide if she liked his company. She was always friendly and joked with him – never giving anything away – but her attention would drift back and forth. It confused him to no end, and so he often found himself retaliating in the same manner so as to seem like he didn’t care. He did care. 

He watched as she tucked her hair behind her ear, licking her lips and listening intently to Tracey’s response. Still smiling. She looked his way for a brief moment, and his breath hitched. Merlin, he had it bad for her.

Pansy’s hand halted in his hair and he turned his head back to his book, desperately hoping she hadn’t caught him looking over. She had accused him once of a crush, and knowing how spiteful Pansy could be, he rejected the accusation very convincingly. “I prefer girls with a little less Muggle in them,” had been the start of it.

“Her mother was a Rosier, though. And everyone said she was like… super powerful,” she had poked, hoping to get more of a reaction.

“Obviously not powerful enough, if she managed to get herself killed in the street,” he had spat. The words had burned his throat and made him rather light-headed with guilt. He hated himself for ever speaking them, but he wasn’t ready to admit his feelings to anyone – particularly Pansy, especially himself and most definitely not Y/N.

What he said had satisfied her, and his long-kept secret remained hidden still. He would have to be careful now, but it really didn’t help that Y/N had returned from the summer looking more beautiful and radiant than ever before; a beacon of light after his months shrouded in darkness.

He heard her and Davis drift away, their voices getting fainter, and he tried to focus on the homework in front of him. Pansy’s hand went back to its dance, but it fell when he scooted closer to the fire.

He would focus on his homework tonight to distract from his task, and then he would try to get a decent night’s sleep and work on the cabinet all day tomorrow.

——-

Draco was stalking the restricted section of the library after realising the books he had previously collected were complete and utter rubbish. He had spent all day in the Room of Requirement, but the spell books he had were no aid in his attempt at fixing the cabinet whatsoever.

Back to square one. He was browsing for what felt like thirty minutes before he found something of interest and decided to perch himself on the windowsill to begin to read.

The sun was on its way to setting before he heard someone come in. He heard huffing and puffing, and eventually caught sight of a bushy head of hair. Granger. He slinked to the other side of the window which was hidden by a bookshelf so as not to be seen and carried on reading.

It was impossible, however, to concentrate, because the mudblood ended up staying for ages. He heard her rustling about, pulling out different books, slamming them and putting them back for a good twenty minutes. He was about to tell her to shut up before he heard an “Oh!”

She began whispering quickly to herself and then practically ran out of the section. Draco’s eyes could have rolled to the back of his head. She was so fucking dramatic, someone needed to tell her to calm down.

He stayed put and continued his research for a little while longer. The book he had was only somewhat helpful. It gave him the steppingstones as to what kind of spells he should be using on the cabinet and had a few examples he would try later. For now, he was starving, and decided to go to dinner since he’d missed both breakfast and lunch.

The Great Hall was lively. People were walking about, mixing between tables, chatting loudly between themselves. Pansy was laughing manically with Crabbe and Goyle when he sat down. Nott, Davis and Greengrass were huddled a few spaces away from them in deep conversation, and then he watched Greengrass get up and make her way to the Gryffindor table. She began talking to Granger.

“You missed all the fun today, Draco,” Davis said sarcastically, sighing.

“Why, what happened?” he asked, not particularly interested. No doubt it was something to do with Potter.

“Y/N’s been taken to the hospital wing,” his heart sank to his feet. _What._ He felt his face drop and his stomach starting churning. “We don’t know what happened. One minute she was laughing and eating porridge, and the next her eyes were bleeding and she started coughing blood all over the table. Madame Pomfrey didn’t have a clue what curse it was but Granger managed to find it in the library. I don’t know who the bloody hell would do that to her.”

Draco couldn’t even say anything but “What the fuck.” _How_ had this happened? _Who_ had done this? _Was she alright?_ He felt sick.

“I know. McGonagall had a fit, screaming at everyone in the hall. We’re going to visit her after dinner, if you want to come?” he wanted to go now, and alone, but he knew people would probably already be there. She was well-liked and had friends in each house, there was no way she’d be alone right now. Merlin, he felt dizzy.

Draco just nodded soberly, and slowly picked at the food in front of him. Any hunger he had disappeared and turned into sickly stress.

“Where were you, today?” he heard Pansy ask.

“Library.”

——-

It was he, Nott, Greengrass and Davis who visited the hospital after dinner. Trudging up the stairs, he couldn’t help striding in front of the others with severe determination.

Madam Pomfrey was tending to a first year with a broken wrist when they walked in. She looked at them and tutted, before saying “Popular girl,” with a raised eyebrow to Y/N. He had been right, then. He wondered who had visited her today when he had been gone. Merlin, if he had just been there when it happened.

Y/N was sat up in her bed, wearing long, white silk pyjamas that he’d often seen her lounge about in at night in the common room. She had a book splayed in front of her, and she looked frustrated with herself. Her expression did not change when she looked up at them. She looked… wary of them.

“Hey, Y/L/N,” Nott welcomed. “Feeling alright?”

She gave a small smile and said “Hey. Yeah, I’m good, thank you. Thanks for bringing my pyjamas, Daphne.”

Draco made a move to sit on the bed next to her, while the rest sat in chairs or stood. “No problem! I’m just glad you’re alright,” Daphne said, reaching for Y/N’s hand.

He could tell she was trying to hide it, but she looked uncomfortable. “Yeah. Thank you,” she said curtly, giving Daphne’s hand a quick squeeze.

Pomfrey then came over and made Y/N take a blood replenishing potion. She needed it; her skin was sickly pale, almost grey. She grimaced after taking it and took a deep breath.

“We’re gonna find out who cursed you, Y/N, I promise,” said Davis. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed, and she mumbled, “it doesn’t matter.”

What was she on? _Of course it fucking matters._

Judging by the fact everyone was now looking at him, he had said that out loud. He let out a little cough and looked back at Y/N. She was staring at him intensely. Like she was trying to see into his soul. He couldn’t help but squirm under her gaze, and he kicked the side of the bedside table lightly.

“He’s right, Y/N,” Greengrass said softy, “this wasn’t an accident.”

Y/N was breathing in heavily through her nose. “I’d like to go to sleep, now, if you guys don’t mind.” Her mouth quivered when she spoke, as if she was about to cry. It took everything in Draco not to scoop her up into a hug and tell her that he would keep her safe now. That he find whoever did this and make sure they could never hurt her again. 

He couldn’t understand who would ever want to harm a hair on this girl’s head.

He pondered if someone was after her, like with her mother. Maybe the same person, or someone close to them? He wondered if she thought that, too. He hoped desperately this was just a fluke – an accident – but with everything going on around them, he knew that was unlikely.

Y/N began to climb under her blanket, and everyone stood up. “Of course, night Y/L/N,” Nott said.

“Good night, we’ll see you tomorrow,” Daphne gave a kind smile. She and Davis turned and began to walk away with Nott.

Draco lingered and watched Y/N for a moment as she lay down and tucked herself in. She turned around so her back was to him. It broke his heart that she felt she had to close herself off from them – from him. He wished he could comfort her, but he didn’t know if she would accept it or appreciate it if he did.

Instead, he said quietly, “Good night, Y/L/N,” and turned to walk out of the room. He heard her sniffle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Rec: On the Train Ride Home - The Paper Kites

The light bounced off every surface, and you quickly shut your eyes again. You had forgotten where you were for a moment.

Rolling over, you thought about the approaching day. Snape had owled your father yesterday about the whole ordeal, and you knew this was going to scare the living daylight out of him. He would tell you to come home.

You wanted to go home.

You weren’t even going to lie to yourself; you were terrified. Someone had _cursed_ you – and not a stupid curse like throwing up slugs – Hermione said the purpose of the curse was to drain the subject of their blood through the eyes, nose and mouth over a period of days. A slow, painful death.

_Who the hell would do this to you?_

You knew there were risks coming back to school, such as people with certain ideals may finally get the nerve to start bullying you – calling you a dirty half-breed, maybe slag off your mother; that kind of thing. You didn’t suspect attempted murder was on the cards.

“Hey, are you awake?” you heard, and you jumped. Catching sight of bushy brown hair, you immediately felt safe.

You sat up and groggily replied, “Morning,” rubbing your eyes. You looked at Hermione, who was smiling down at you and carrying a large tray.

“I didn’t think you’d want to go back into the hall, so I brought you breakfast. There’s toast, porridge, and an apple. I didn’t know what you’d like.”

You wanted to cry. For one, this was so incredibly sweet of her. You quite literally owed her your life. Secondly, you felt weak. She was right, you didn’t want to go back into that hall yet – or maybe ever again. You cannot believe someone had managed to scare you from going into a room that, for five years of your life, you’d considered to be a safe haven.

Hermione put the tray in front of you and sat on the chair by your bedside. “Thank you so much, Hermione. Really. You don’t know how much it means to me,” the words came out of your mouth without any thought.

“It’s fine, honestly, don’t mention it. I’m just worried about you. I still can’t believe this happened,” she said pointedly.

“Yeah,” you agreed, picking up a slice of toast, “me either.”

“Do you feel any better?” she asked. “Physically, yes. I feel fine,” you replied.

“And mentally?” Hermione raised an eyebrow.

“Mentally, I think I’d like to crawl under this bed and never come out.”

She let out a big sigh. “I don’t even know what to suggest. I’d love to tell you to be brave and go out there and show whoever cursed you that they failed, but no one has a clue who it is and for all we know they could just try again. That spell was hard to find – what if they know other spells like that?” She asked, and then her mouth opened in a small ‘o’ and her face turned pink. “Oh Merlin, I’m so sorry, I don’t mean to make this worse.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” your voice came out like a whisper.

Heels clicked rapidly against the floor and Professor Snape walked into the room, followed by Professor McGonagall and Headmaster Dumbledore. You sat up promptly at their severe faces.

“Miss Y/L/N, I received a response from your father this morning,” Snape started, “he has asked for you to be brought home immediately.” You knew he would. “I understand you may not want to leave, but I have to strongly encourage you do so. It would the best course of action for the time-being, even if only for a short period of time. We are unaware whether this was a personal attack or something that will be continued on to other pupils, and so we have to be diligent. We are determined to find whoever has acted in such an unforgiveable manner.”

Your eyes began to well up, which came with a wave of embarrassment. “I want to go home, Professor.” Your mouth quivered involuntarily, and you felt Hermione immediately took your hand. You felt as though this was the first time you’d fully trusted someone in a long time.

“Very well, I have to admit you are making a wise decision. I will arrange for your trunk to be packed by your dorm-mates, and Professor McGonagall will escort you home via the Floo Network in her office later today,” he said softly. You had truthfully never seen the Professor behave so sympathetically.

“Thank you, Professor,” you said, looking between them.

“You are welcome to come back whenever you wish, dear,” said McGonagall. “Send me an owl on the morning of your choice, and I will come and collect you the very next day. I do not want to see one of my best students scared out of this school when it is supposed to be your home.” She radiated anger, but she looked at you with a combination of pity and love. It made you cry again.

You thanked her kindly and promised you would work hard from home. She gave a small laugh, “I know you will. I will come and collect you in a couple of hours, to give you time to say goodbye to your friends,” she nodded to you and retreated. Snape bowed his head to you, before following her closely, and Professor Dumbledore lingered.

“I do hope this hasn’t punctured your spirit, Miss Y/L/N. This is your home and whomever has made you feel otherwise will be punished accordingly. You have my word.” Dumbledore looked down at you, and gave you a small smile, before looking at Hermione and saying, “Miss Granger, I thought you and Mr Potter could visit my office this afternoon, after lunch.”

“Yes, Professor, of course,” she nodded, looking a little confused. “Excellent,” he replied, “good day to you both. Safe travels, Y/N. I hope to see you again very soon.”

You nodded, “Thank you, Professor, me too. Goodbye.” He smiled and swiftly left the room.

“I’ll send you my Arithmancy notes in case you need them,” Hermione said quickly. This made you laugh – you would definitely need them. Your study session in the Ravenclaw common room on Thursday had been a nightmare. The entire hour consisted of Hermione explaining the textbook to you, and you looking at her wide-eyed, yelling, “What? That doesn’t even make sense! How does that work?”

Your small laugh immediately turned into a sob. Oh, for Merlin’s sake. When you got over this you were going to kill whoever turned you into a scared, blubbering mess.

You felt Hermione remove the breakfast tray and sit on your bed in its place. “Oh, Y/N. Please don’t cry, they do NOT deserve your tears,” she said, putting a hand on your cheek.

You cried harder. “I’m just scared,” you managed to get out. You were surprised that you said this out loud.

“I don’t blame you, but you’ve got me! And you’ve got so many people who care about you and who will protect you. Daphne, Tracey, Theo… even Draco,” she exclaimed.

“She’s right, Y/L/N,” you heard a boy say. Shit. You knew exactly which boy. Did he have to come in right now and see you like this?

“Oh. Malfoy,” you heard Hermione say. You tried to steel yourself, wiping your eyes. “Granger,” he responded curtly.

You looked at him – he was near the foot of your bed, dressed in a black crew-neck jumper and black trousers. He loomed over you both in his tall stature, paler than usual, and rather like he’d seen a ghost.

Hermione looked between you both and said, “I’ll come back before noon. Don’t leave without saying goodbye!”

“Leave?” asked Draco, as Hermione scooted past him and walked briskly towards the door.

“I’m going home,” you sniffed. He looked at you in a sort of disbelief.

“Oh… right,” he said, still looking like he’d been punched in the gut. “Of course – makes sense – I – I’m so sorry this happened to you. I wanted to say it last night, but – well, it’s not fair and I’m just sorry someone’s put you in this position.”

“What, flat in a hospital bed?” you joked, trying to lighten the mood for both him and you. This helpless feeling was already getting old.

A smile did not grace his lips. “Don’t do that,” he said gently, but his eyebrows were furrowed in a sort of gentle fury that made you feel guilty. “How long will you be gone?” he asked.

“I’m not sure,” you said. “Until I feel safe, I guess. I don’t even have an idea of who did this to me, so…”

His features immediately calmed and this time he did look truly sorry, with his wide eyes and small frown. “I wish I could have kept you safe,” he said quietly, and he seemed to regret the words as they left his mouth.

Your breath hitched. Something about the moment made you want to crawl across the bed and pull him down to lay with you. Let him hold you. Hold him. You knew, somehow, that everything would be okay if you did this.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you said, “Well, that’s not your job. Don’t worry,” and it felt like the worst response you could have given.

Standing up straighter, he swallowed hard and it looked like it took a lot of effort to get out the word “No.”

Merlin, he was trying with you – he had never done anything but try. Why did you always have to make it hard for him?

“Will you write to me?” you decided to ask, feeling like it would be a slow but easy step in the right direction. He looked surprised, then nervous. He let out a breath.

“Of course,” he raised an eyebrow, and haughtily said, “Not about homework, though. I’m not Granger.” This made you smile and let out a breathy laugh, despite yourself. You despised how he could make you laugh without even trying.

The way he looked at you as you smiled made your heart stop. Did he mean to look like that?

Once again, you had the urge to be close to him. You decided to be brave and tap the bed in suggestion that he sit down on it, next to you.

His eyes bulged from their sockets for a millisecond, eyebrows flying up his forehead. You worried he wasn’t comfortable with the idea, but he steadily made his way towards you, and carefully sat down so as not to sit on your legs. He sat closer than you expected, but somehow not close enough.

You scolded yourself for feeling like this – he was prejudice and pretentious and self-important. He was cruel to some, yet kind to others – kind to you. You realised then that you’d never seen him this way with anyone else. 

‘He would do this for Pansy,’ you thought. That notion hurt more than it should.

He was facing the room in front of him when he said, “You didn’t deserve this,” which came out so softly that you barely heard it, despite how close he was. It made you want to cry.

You decided then to hug him. ‘Screw it,’ you thought. He would let you; you had just almost been killed.

You leaned forward slowly and began to wrap your arms around his neck, so he understood what was happening. His hands slipped around your waist seamlessly and you were suddenly breathing in deep amber. You immediately felt as though a weight had lifted off your chest.

His face was buried in your neck and you could feel him breathing deeply; the air tickling your neck. It was the most soothing thing you’d ever felt. You could have stayed like that forever. He made no indication that he wanted to move away from you, so you remained as you were, and you stayed in that position for who knows how long.

His arms would occasionally tighten, as if you weren’t close enough, so you’d try and move a bit closer. He couldn’t have been comfortable in that position, and you desperately wanted to pull your leg around him to get him even closer, but that would have been pushing it.

You would miss him. You felt a real sense of loss over the fact you had to leave already, having only been back at Hogwarts a week. You had only had one patrol with him – one really, really good one. So good that you’d thought about it every day since, never failing to put a smile on your face as you remembered the way he teased you and dragged you around the castle.

You desperately hoped you found the courage to come back soon.

You must have drifted to sleep at some point (probably after he started drawing circles on your back), because when he tugged gently and you heard voices, you were in a drowsy state of shock. Draco’s face was inches from yours and you were both lying down, facing each other.

Peppermint filled your brain as he said, “you wouldn’t let go of my neck,” with a little smirk and a twinkling look in his eye that made your heart do a somersault. Indeed, your arms were still locked around him. He must have tried to set you down when you fell asleep.

You didn’t want to move an inch - he was so close - but out of the corner of your eye you saw Daphne and Tracey. They were wide-eyed and trying to look anywhere but the direction of your bed. Heat rose to your cheeks. You sighed and pulled away from him, feeling an immediate loss.

He sat up with you and dropped his legs over the side of the bed to sit upright. You prayed he wouldn’t leave yet.

“I can’t believe you’re going,” Daphne immediately said, sitting on the other side of your bed, her back to Draco whose mind seemed to drift as he stared into the space in front of him.

“I have to,” you replied, “I hate to be such a wuss and tap out early, but I don’t really want to be murdered on my way to the loo.”

“Alright, Moaning Myrtle,” Tracey joked. “Merlin, when I find out who did this, I’m going to drag them by their hair down to the forest and feed them to the bloody hippogriff. Maybe throw in an Unforgiveable on the way.”

“Hippogriff’s don’t eat people, Tracey,” you replied in amusement, knowing she’d outright failed her Care of Magical Creatures O.W.L with a Dreadful. “I do hope we find out who it was, though, because I’d really like to know why they did it,” you said quietly, and mostly to yourself as you picked at your fingernails. Immediately you wished you hadn’t said this. You knew why they did it – the people currently sat by you knew why they did it.

Draco turned his head to look at you then, his expression unreadable.

“Do you… do you think it could have anything to do with your mother?” Daphne asked, wide-eyed and terrified. You trembled at the question.

“I hate to ask you,” she said hastily, “I know we’ve never talked about it – even your father – but if that’s the reason they did it, there’s no way you’ll be the only one they want to hurt.”

Your eyes were damp when you looked between them. These people were kind to you always, you had to let them in. You were so tired of keeping people out – of never having anyone to talk to about how you felt. So, you quietly said, “it’s the only reason I can think of…” you took a breath. You were shaking. “I had a feeling they weren’t going to be finished just because my mother – but I – I was more scared for my father than myself, being alone in the muggle world… I honestly didn’t think I’d be that much of a target. At least here.”

You had picked at your nail so much that it had begun to sting, and you saw a little bit of blood.

“I mean, I know some people have… ideals –” you couldn’t help but glance at Draco when you said this.

“Yeah – fucking bullshit ideals. I’m sorry, Draco, I know you and your family have your ways but it’s some of the stupidest dung I’ve ever heard. Especially when it hurts one of our own,” Tracey spat. Your cheek was suddenly wet and your heart swelled. The words that she spoke had been words you’d needed to hear from your housemates for years.

Draco swallowed loudly but otherwise stayed silent, now looking down at his feet.

“You’ll be safe, won’t you? In the muggle world, with – with your father?” Daphne asked gently.

“I think so,” you spoke. “No one knows where our house is, and my.. my mum warded it pretty heavily. Any magical person needs my permission to enter the building since – well – I’m now the only witch in the house. My mum thought it was safer that way. I don’t know if I’d be safe roaming around Muggle London, but my father still does and – “

“Don’t leave the house,” Draco interrupted. He looked down at you then, and repeated, pleading firmly, “don’t leave the house.”

His eyes were fierce, as sharp as steel.

“He’s right, Y/N,” said Daphne, before you could give a response. “The Death Eaters aren’t picky about where they’re attacking, and you never know; you could end up in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“So could my dad,” you said sombrely, and silence filled the room.

“I should get changed, McGonagall will be here soon,” you decided to say. You didn’t really want to say goodbye, but this felt like the end of the conversation.

Draco took a deep breath and wiped his palms against his thighs before looking at you and giving you one of those small awkward smiles you give people as a ‘sorry’ when you accidentally bump into them on the street. He began to stand up, and you almost reached out – you didn’t want him to leave yet – but Daphne pulled you into a hug before you could do anything.

“Please, _please_ be safe,” she whispered. “We love you.” She pulled away and you got yourself out of bed to give Tracey a hug.

When she pulled away, she squeezed your arm and said, “Love you lots. Be safe.”

“I’ll see you both soon,” you said. You would have smiled but you were heartbroken. This felt awful.

Draco was stood on the other side of the bed, hands in his pockets. He blinked and looked down before walking away, following Daphne and Tracey towards the door. You didn’t breathe while you watched him move.

You continued to watch him walk until he turned around, looking solemn. Still as a statue, he waited until Daphne and Tracey had left the room, who both spared him a backward glance.

It was then that he said, “Miss you already, Y/L/N,” and turned to leave.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Rec: Call You Up - Viola Beach

_Draco,_

_Sorry to hear you’ve been ill. Daphne said you looked like you were knocking on death’s door, so I do hope you get well soon. I’m sorrier that you couldn’t attend Quidditch try-outs, though. Whoever Urquhart managed to find will be a poor replacement (not to toot your horn). Our team will get battered without you this year._

_Woah. Well it seems you can toot your horn all on your own (haha). You? Generous? Sorry but I won’t believe it until I see it. You can prove me wrong when I return._

_Still don’t know when that will be. Soon, hopefully. I’m already starting to go bonkers in this house. As much as I love my dad, I cannot stand his cooking, so I’ve taken up cooking as a distraction. Not that I’ve got much time for distraction with the amount of work we’re being given!! I hate how much stress comes with these exams. Wish I could be a happy little first year again, not a NEWT in sight. How are you finding it?_

_Thank you for the Dreamless Sleep – I really needed it. My dad tried to get me to drink whiskey to help me sleep (refrain from making an insult about muggles – he tried his best) but it made me cough so hard that it took me right back to spurting out blood all over Millicent’s porridge. Traumatised._

_Yes, actually, I would have preferred to write to Harry, since he is so sexy and brilliant at Quidditch, but I heard he’s illiterate. Not gonna lie – you were my second choice._

_You won’t be for much longer though, if your letters continue to be so bloody negative! You cannot possibly hate everything you see/touch/hear/smell. Get a grip – learn to love something._

_If we are to continue writing to each other, you have to start telling me about things you like. In fact, give me a list. I want to know ten things that you like. Anything at all._

_Number one can be when I provide you with gifts from the muggle world (attached). Hope you like them more than the ballpoint pen._

_Please write back soon so I can spend some more time with Cygnus. He likes to sit on the back of the armchair and makes the most adorable flurrying noises while I write my replies. My patronus is an Eagle Owl, did I tell you? Maybe that’s why he likes me so much. Or maybe it’s because I feed him half a box of treats every time he visits._

_Enjoy the gift and I hope you feel better shortly,_

_Y/N_

Draco’s heart raced as he reread the letter, which Daphne had brought down for him from this morning’s post.

_I won’t believe it until I see it. You can prove me wrong when I return._

Referring to his previous letter in which he jokingly stated he was a generous lover, and that he could impress Slughorn in the bedroom. Obviously implying he could impress _her_. He did not predict this response.

He breathed slowly. She was probably joking. He hoped she wasn’t, and if she wasn’t…

He dropped the letter onto his bed before walking around in circles, rubbing his palms against his robes. If Y/N had managed to truly, finally like him back, then he was stuck. He had been so used to her inconsistencies that he assumed she would never return the feelings, and he had accepted that, and that made his life decisions a hell of a lot easier.

However, her letters had grown flirtier and more intimate over the past few weeks. She began asking him real questions about himself – things he hadn’t expected anyone to ever inquire, and he enjoyed it. He felt like she was opening up to him when he asked her similar questions, too, which she hadn’t done since they were kids. Writing to her was the only part of his life that didn’t feel tainted, and he felt himself more and more emotionally wrapped up in her. She was beginning to consume him, and he didn’t know what he would do if she genuinely did return his feelings.

She was a half-blood, which would have been fine – the Malfoy’s were not like his mother’s family, the Black’s. They were more tolerant with idea of half-bloods and slightly less pure lines mixing in – it was generally inevitable. It didn’t matter as long as they didn’t concern themselves with muggles and strived for a pure future. However, her father _was_ a muggle – which he couldn’t lie, he had his own reservations with, never mind those of his family and the world looming over them. He hadn’t a hope in hell that it would work out.

He was currently on a mission to murder the Headmaster of the school she loved dearly. He then had to escape said school to protect his family and serve the Dark Lord – someone who would kill her without hesitation. When Dumbledore was dead (the only real person standing in the Dark Lord’s way) her entire existence would be illicit.

These thoughts swirled around in his mind daily, ever since that day in the hospital wing when he felt her breathing slow down against his ear, and he tried to set her back down on the bed, but her hands were as tight as a vice around his neck - like she would never let him go. It was, he thought, one of the best moments of his life. But that didn’t matter, because it was just another thing he now had to worry about.

He sat back down and picked up the curious gift that had been delivered with her letter and began to unwrap. Her last gift had been a muggle pen with blue ink, which she sent a couple of weeks ago. Draco had attempted to use it in his response to her, and he found the outcome to be unsatisfactory to say the least – not that he expected any less from a bloody muggle contraption. The pen moved far too quickly under his fingers and he had letters growing limbs and flying all over the parchment.

As he pulled away the wrapping paper and ribbon, he found two boxes. The top was a silver tin labelled ‘Turkish Delight’. He had absolutely no idea what that was, though he thought it sounded rather crude. As he picked it up to see what was below, he found a small note that read ‘Just in case’. Lifting it up, he found a small box of crystallised pineapple underneath.

A small smile formed on his face. Crystallised pineapple always reminded him of her, ever since she told him a story about how they were the only thing able to calm her down when she was on a muggle aircraft with her parents. He remembered sending her some that Christmas – the biggest box he could find, hoping to impress her.

Merlin, he had been praying she would like him back for five years, and now look at the position he was in.

He decided to leave the sweet tasting for later – for now he had to reread the letter for a fourth time.

_Learn to love something… I want to know ten things that you like._

A knock on the door pulled him out of his thoughts and he quickly moved the letter and the gifts under his bed, along with the books he’d been scouring for information on how to fix the cabinet. “Draco?” Pansy called.

He sighed. Well, he could definitely think of something he disliked. Pansy had begun to dote on him constantly – and while he appreciated that she cared about him, he needed her to get away from him so he could continue with his task. She was relentless and managed to show up at the wrong moment every time.

“Pansy, I’m not well,” he all but shouted, turning away from the door in case she came in.

“I know, I just wanted to check on you before class. Do you need anything?” he heard the door squeak open slightly. He sighed.

“I’m fine, Pans.”

“Okay well I’ll come back at lunch to check – “

“Don’t!” he snapped. He didn’t mean to, but she was driving him up the wall. “I’m fine, I don’t need a babysitter. I’ll see you when I’m better.” He huffed himself under the covers and stayed there until he heard her sigh and say “Okay, I’ll see you soon.” The door closed.

“He’s still not well,” he heard her say to someone else outside of the door. Rolling his eyes, he threw the blanket off of him.

He knew she was curious who had been writing to him. She’d brought him Y/N’s letters a few times and she always asked if they were about his mission for the Dark Lord. He would just say it had nothing to do with her and not to concern herself with it, which is why he was surprised she didn’t give in. He had purposefully been snappy with her so she would leave him alone.

He wouldn’t be able to keep up the ‘ill’ facade much longer before having to face Pomfrey, so he thought about making a miraculous recovery later today in order to test out some spells on the cabinet.

He was sure he finally had an idea of how to do it, but it would take months. Longer than he originally estimated, and he was terrified. If his plan with the necklace worked, he would be stuck at Hogwarts until he could fix the cabinet. Who knows how long it would be before he was found out after the fact?

He only had a week to go before the Hogsmeade trip, so time was approaching rapidly, and his nerves were getting out of control. For whatever reason, Dumbledore had started leaving Hogwarts for days at a time. This aggravated him further – what if he decided to leave on the day of the trip? He supposed whoever Rosmerta managed to give the necklace to would just keep it until he got back.

He took a deep breath. He had to keep in his head that this would work out.

——-

“What’s going on with you and Y/N?” Tracey Davis whispered, looking up at him curiously. Draco tensed and suddenly his nerves were haywire.

She had dragged him into a dark corner of the common room – hidden from the party that was surrounding them – as he was on his way to the Room of Requirement. The party was for fifth years and up and it was looking very messy.

“What?” he asked, pretending like it was a stupid question.

“Do you like her?” she continued to investigate, now seeming impatient.

“What makes you think that?” came out of his mouth before he could even think of a proper response. Yes, Draco, very bloody subtle. Well done.

“Just – look, no one cares, you know, it’s not a big deal. It’s actually really cute, you’d be good together, but – well – Pansy thinks she has a proper chance with you. She’s always kind of fancied you, but she is so much worse this year. I don’t know if you’ve accidentally egged her on or something, but you’re literally all she talks about these days. Unless you do like her, in which case –” Draco’s look of disgust made her stop talking. She furrowed her eyebrows in bewilderment and sighed.

“You need to let her down gently before you do anything with Y/N because she’ll be devastated when she finds out.”

Draco let out a breath, completely confused. How did she know about Y/N, for one? And how had Pansy managed to get it into her head that they would end up together? Anger began to boil.

“Why does Pansy think I’d go there? She’s my friend, she’s always been my friend, I’ve never given any – ” he was cut off.

“I don’t know! It’s like she stepped off the Express and was just convinced you were meant to be together from that day forward.” Her hands were flailing about in frustration. “As I say, just make sure you tell her you don’t like her before you go flaunting Y/N around the school when she gets back.”

“Me and Y/N haven’t even – we’re not – ” he sighed. “We’ve only been writing to each other, it’s not like it’s a big deal.”

She laughed and proceeded to smirked at him. “You’re so clueless. Do you think she’s been writing to anyone else?”

“I mean, maybe she is. How do I know?” he felt himself growing more frustrated. What was going on?

“Well now you do: she isn’t.” She gave him a knowing smile and tapped him twice on the arm before turning and returning to the party. The blaring music drowned out his thoughts and he decided to leave before anyone else could pull him for a chat – specifically Pansy, who was necking firewhiskey from the bottle.

——-

He had only been in the Room of Requirement for a couple of hours before he had to leave. He had gotten himself wound up again and ended up back in the seventh-floor bathroom – as was becoming a habit.

Myrtle came to speak to him as per usual, and he was finally beginning to open up to her. It was already getting too much for him and he had no one to talk to, no one to tell him it was going to be fine and that he could pull this off. His own voice wasn’t enough anymore.

By the time he got back to the common room, his throat was sore, his head hurt, and he wanted to forget everything. The party was much livelier than it had been earlier. It was dark and foggy – the only light sources being the small green lanterns placed around the room and the raging green fire. The music was heavy; so deep that it shook him to his core. It was magnetic, and the second he walked through the door he knew he was going to stay. He needed a distraction – to truly and completely take his mind off everything.

He found the stash of firewhiskey and poured himself a goblet full, throwing back as much as he could in one go. He shuddered, then topped up his drink before walking towards the sofas by the fire. As he slinked next to Nott who was shouting over the music, his brain went a little bit fuzzy.

“TWO GALLEONS? NO PROBLEM BECAUSE I’LL WIN,” he laughed and leaned back into his seat. “MALFOY!” he said, a wide grin forming on his face. “Where’ve you been, you’ve missed all sorts!? Doesn’t matter, Zabini just bet me two galleons that I can’t get Y/N to go on a date with me when she gets back.” He laughed and Draco felt his heart sink as he took a sip of his drink. “There’s no way she’s saying no – we had a mint time at the Yule Ball.”

Draco couldn’t control the possessive feeling that washed over him, nor the words that spilled out of his mouth. “I bet you ten galleons she says no.”

“TEN!? Mate!” his jaw slacked, and he pondered it for a moment. “Why are you so sure?”

Draco forced a smirk. “Just a feeling.” This was a lie – he had no idea if she would say yes or not. She and Nott got on very well, and they spent a lot of time together. More time than she and Draco had. He just hoped he was right, and that she did in fact like him.

Theo was thrown by this, and said, “Well you’re on! Ten galleons! Merlin, if I get rejected my dad is going to kill me for wasting money,” he laughed, drink almost spilling from his cup, and turned back to listen to what Zabini was saying. Draco took another sip.

He felt someone tap his shoulder, and he turned to see Pansy looking down at him from behind the sofa. She leaned down closer to his face and he turned his head, so she was nowhere near his lips as she spoke. “Hello, handsome,” she practically purred and he didn’t even hide his jitter, though she didn’t seem to notice. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling better. Come dance with me!”

“I’m not nearly drunk enough to dance, Pans.” He feigned a smile and sipped on his drink, trying to listen in to Nott and Zabini’s conversation. They were now shouting about which team would catch the most snitches this year, and once again, Nott was willing to bet his money on it. Neither of them said Slytherin, and Draco felt a small sense of pride at the fact he seemed to be so respected as their past seeker, and thus sorry for the fact he had to give up Quidditch this year. He wondered just how much of his life he’d have to give up in order to save his family. All of it, it seemed.

Someone slumped next to him, and he knew it was Pansy before he even looked. When would she give up? Taking a swig of his drink, he purposefully ignored her presence. His hands were beginning to feel numb, which was always a tell-tale sign he was getting drunk.

Davis sat next to Zabini, across from Draco, and he could see in the light of the green fire that she was raising her eyebrows at he and Pansy. He stood up, drained his goblet, and went to get a refill. Hopefully he would get drunk enough to tell Pansy he wasn’t interested so he didn’t have to do it sober. When he returned, he sat next to Davis.

“Have you told her?” she leaned over to him and asked. He shook his head, taking a sip. “Do it tonight. She’s on the prowl. If you pie her off, she might just go and snog someone else to take her mind off it.”

“Does Y/N like me?” he heard himself ask, and he could have whacked his head off the table for being so stupid. This was not good. Clearly, he’d already reached the point of no return. When was the last time he ate something?

She laughed then. “Yes - even if she doesn’t know it herself. She mentions you in all of her letters to me and Daphne,” his heart lifted. “Do you like her? You didn’t answer me before.”

He stayed silent and watched Nott as he blabbed away. Theo could probably make her happy, Draco thought. They often laughed together. But he couldn’t ignore how that thought ripped at his heart, and he needed to tell _someone_ , so he nodded slowly.

“HA! I knew it. I’m rooting for you both, honestly. Me and Daphne actually had a bet that – ” He felt someone pull at his arm so hard that it forced him to stand up. He was suddenly looking down at Pansy, and before he could do anything to stop it, she grabbed his face and pulled him down to her lips. As soon as his brain registered what was happening, he pushed her off him and the words “What the fuck, Pansy!?” flew out of his mouth.

She reached her arms out to try again, but he fought them off. “Pansy, piss off, it’s not going to happen! Merlin!” She just pouted and looked at him. What wasn’t clicking in her head? He looked at her in disbelief and told her to go find someone else to snog because it wasn’t happening with him. Hopefully that had been good enough to put her off him for the foreseeable.

He would have gone back to his dorm, but he felt like he wasn’t done talking to Tracey, so he sat back in his seat while shaking his head.

“Well,” Tracey said, “that happened quicker than I thought it would. I think she thinks we were flirting,” she nodded her head to the left and he looked over. Pansy was leaning against the far wall, watching them.

He turned back around to face her, and couldn’t hold back the thoughts that were racing any longer, “I think Y/N has been flirting in her letters but I’m not sure because she’s _so_ on and off, and I can never tell how she feels, and Nott wants to take her on a date so I don’t know what to do – maybe I shouldn’t tell her how I feel because she – “

“Malfoy, stop talking!” she shouted, eyes wide. “She likes you, alright! Shut up! Just tell her, I promise it will be fine. I don’t know what you’re so worried about!” He quickly realised Davis was that kind of person you felt you could spill all of your secrets to, because they would never judge you, and they’d somehow make you feel like everything was okay. He knew if he didn’t leave now, he would continue to let the words leak out. He had started with Myrtle earlier on, and he still wasn’t done trying to rid himself of the burden he kept inside. He shook his head and said thank you, before draining the rest of his drink. He popped his goblet on the table, claimed he was tired and bid his friends goodnight.

He stalked upstairs to his dorm, which was unsurprisingly empty. He kicked off his shoes and stumbled, falling onto his bed. He lay there, looking at the ceiling, which was now spinning. He thought about Y/N again. Merlin, was he ever going to think about anything else? Why did he care so much?

He remembered her letter, and dramatically swung himself on to his front. He leaned over the edge of the bed, and pulled out the boxes she had sent him. He didn’t really know what he was doing when he ripped off the lid of the silver tin, finding pink cubes dusted in what he assumed was sugar. He picked one, and took a small bite.

Roses. Somehow, it tastes like roses. He liked it. He put the rest of it in his mouth and sighed in satisfaction. 

He really liked it. He had to tell her. 

He couldn’t really remember what she wrote in her last letter, but he remembered she asked for ten things that he liked, so he sat at his desk and started his response.

_Y/N,_

_You asked me for ten things that I like. Here they are._

  1. _Turkish Delight._
  2. _The sound of the lake against my dorm window._
  3. _Having someone to talk to._
  4. _Spending time with my mother._
  5. _Astronomy tower alone at night._
  6. _Sitting close to the fire._
  7. _Playing seeker for Slytherin._
  8. _Smell of hydrangeas._
  9. _Potions class._
  10. _You._



_Draco_

_P.S. I’d be more than willing to show you my generous side when you return._

He waited a minute for the ink to dry before folding the parchment and sealing it in an envelope. He wrote out her name and address and left it on his desk to post in the morning.

He unbuckled his belt and let his trousers fall before getting into bed, whipping his jumper off on the way. He put the boxes of sweets back under his bed and felt himself drift to sleep the second his head hit the pillow.

He dreamed of hydrangeas, and her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Rec: Hey Now - London Grammar

A familiar tapping noise caused you to finally pull yourself out from under the covers on this dreary day and run to the window; as hopeful as ever. A gust of wind and splatters of rain rushed in, along with an owl you’d come to recognise – Hedwig. You deflated. Another gust of wind caused you to slam the window shut, and you let Hedwig perch herself on your desk before taking the letter.

_Y/N,_

_I’m so sorry to have to tell you but I knew you’d want to know - someone else has been cursed._

_It wasn’t a spell this time – Katie Bell from the year above touched a cursed necklace from Borgin & Burkes. The one that’s killed 19 muggles, you might have heard of it. No one knows where she managed to get it from, and I saw that necklace in Borgin’s just before school started. Well, Harry has a suspicion that it’s Malfoy who gave it to her, but we saw him leave Borgin’s without the necklace that day, and… well it’s a long story. Point is, I don’t believe it was him. Besides, McGonagall said Malfoy had detention with her and missed the Hogsmeade trip, so it couldn’t have possibly been him._

_Harry, however, is adamant. He’s also managed to get it into his head that it was Malfoy who cursed you, too. I don’t agree with him whatsoever, just so you know. I think he’s grasping at thin air – Malfoy didn’t buy that necklace from Borgin and he certainly couldn’t have cursed you as I’m quite sure he wasn’t even in the Great Hall that morning. Besides, he’s never given you any trouble, has he? In fact, I always thought he had a crush on you, so that just wouldn’t add up._

_Harry is just obsessed with the idea that Malfoy has become a Death Eater because his father was one. Again, I can’t agree with him and it’s terribly frustrating because he just won’t see reason. Luckily Ron agrees with me, so I don’t feel completely alone in my opinion._

_I don’t know if what happened to Katie is connected to what happened to you or if it’s just… the times we live in now. These past few years at Hogwarts haven’t exactly been the most innocent, have they?_

_Speaking of – I spoke to Dumbledore about your last letter, regarding your mother. I’m glad to tell you he wants to speak with you when you return. He may reach out himself when you return, but he agrees with Harry, Ron and myself that you should be involved moving forward. Sorry this is rather vague, but I will explain properly when you return._

_I hope you’re well, and I hope to see you soon._

_Lots of love,_

_Hermione_

You sat down, head spinning. What in the name of Merlin was going on?

You hadn’t heard from Draco in over a week now. You knew he was ill, and Daphne had relayed as much in her last letter, so you hadn’t stressed too much about his delayed reply. However, you cared about his well-being, and it seems no one knew what was actually wrong with him. You had also gotten very used to receiving letters from him at least four times a week, so to go without felt very odd.

And now Harry was convinced Draco was a Death Eater, and capable of cursing someone to the point of their death? Cursing _you_? This must have been what he was thinking when he originally asked you to keep an eye on Draco.

You knew in your bones it hadn’t been him to curse you, and you trusted Hermione’s judgment. Why would he choose to curse a random Gryffindor, anyway? Harry’s logic made no sense.

_In fact, I always thought he had a crush on you…_

You had actually begun to believe this yourself. Truthfully, your own opinions and feelings for him blossomed dramatically while being away from Hogwarts.

Perhaps it was the safety of your own home that allowed you to accept your true feelings, as there was no danger in feeling what you felt in the comfort of your own bedroom. There was no half-blood, pureblood, Death Eater codswallop under your duvet. There was just you, and the lovely words written to you from a boy very far away.

You daydreamed about him a lot; imagining having your written conversations in person. How he’d laugh, and run a hand through his hair like you’d seen him do so many times. The smell of peppermint as he whispered very close to your face. You tried not to, but you’d go to bed and wonder what it would feel like were he beside you, telling you his stories in person.

The way in which he began opening up to you, and you to him, felt far too intimate to be just friendship. He was also a ridiculous flirt. This was just his personality, you often thought, but you could feel the toe-curling tension from 600 miles away. It couldn’t be all in your head, surely?

Moreover, you knew he wouldn’t make the time and effort to write to just anyone. He was the most particular person you’d ever met. So the whole notion that he would curse you was beyond bizarre. If Harry was accusing Draco of this, you had to prove him wrong.

Besides, while Draco could be a very particular brand of prat, he didn’t have it in him to truly hurt someone. He was a lot softer than he’d have people believe of him, and you’d always seen that in him.

You listened to the rain, now lashing against your window, and took in a deep breath. You knew you had to go back. It had been over a month now, and your original fear of whoever cursed you had turned into anger over time – which, thanks to this letter, was now bubbling like water in a hot kettle.

This wasn’t the only reason you felt ready to return. The letters you exchanged with Hermione, Daphne and Tracey over the past weeks made you feel like you were cherished. They had shown they cared for you, and you had grown to trust then. You genuinely believed they had your best interest at heart, and this was a gift you never thought you’d receive.

You weren’t alone anymore. And because you weren’t alone anymore, you felt stronger and braver than ever. This curse hadn’t just been about you – it had been about anyone like you. It was about Hermione. It was about your mother, and your father.

Oh, Merlin. Your father.

\--------

“No,” he growled, “you’re not going back, Y/N. Why would you even want to after what happened? After everything! After your mother – it’s too dangerous, Y/N! You’re better off here – you’re doing just fine working from home. Your Professors have said as much, and it’s safer – away from that… that world, that madness!”

You were sat on the sofa in the sitting room, looking up at him as he paced about, kneeing the coffee table more than once. You had fought your case to him many times in your head over the course of the day, but now that he was in front of you it seemed much harder.

“I can’t hide from this anymore. Whoever cursed me hasn’t done it again,” you refrained from mentioning what happened to Katie Bell, “and I miss school. I only have two years left; I want to be there.” His mouth opened to speak but you got there first.

“I won’t be scared into hiding by some tosser with a few dark curses up their sleeve! I’m perfectly capable of putting them in the hospital myself if I ever need to,” you felt your face heat up. “And you know mum wouldn’t want me to hide! She would be telling me to find the bastard that did it and make them pay for what they did. She was so strong, Dad. And I need to be the same.” You took a deep breath.

“I’m going. I can make this decision on my own and I already have,” you took a pause. “I love you so much. And I know this is terrifying for you, believe me – believe me! I am so scared of this happening again, but that’s why I have to go. I can’t spend the rest of my life in fear because mum died.”

“Your mother didn’t die, Y/N, she was murdered.” You held your breath, and he sat down on the chair in front of you. “What if that happens to you? What will I do then? You mean everything to me.”

You felt a lump in your throat as walked over and sat by his side. “I’m not doing this to hurt you,” you said softly. “Dad, I could fall down the stairs one day and die. I could trip over my own feet and die. In a minute I might randomly have a heart attack – ”

“You’re gonna give _me_ a heart attack,” he interrupted.

“You know what I’m trying to say. And yes, you could, and then what would I do? You mean everything to me, too.”

He reached out to hold your hand, staying silent. He was crying.

“You have to promise to write to me all of the time. A whiff of anything dodgy and you ask to come straight home, do you hear me?”

You squeezed his hand – a tear of your own splashing on to your bare arm – and nodded profusely.

\--------

Breath physically could not enter your lungs as Tracey lay on top of you, squeezing your ribcage so tightly you thought you could see stars. She had caught sight of you in the common room on your way from McGonagall’s office, and immediately tackled you to the ground in excitement. Despite the discomfort, this was overwhelming in the most amazing way.

“I AM SO GLAD YOU’RE BACK!” she shouted, almost bursting your ear drum.

“Me too, Tracey. I love you but please get off me,” you said, using the last store of oxygen in your lungs. She squeezed you a little bit tighter before releasing and sitting up, revealing a crowd of housemates who’d come to see all the commotion.

You looked up at the curious faces, most you recognised. When you stood up you were flooded with a lot of ‘Welcome Back’ greetings. There was no silvery blonde hair or familiar drawl to be seen or heard in the crowd.

When you entered your dorm with Tracey, it was otherwise empty. Your trunk was already at the foot of your bed, on which you immediately flopped. You savoured the silence, rubbing your fingers against the sheets. The way the lake lapped against the window almost lulled you to sleep there and then.

“So…” Tracey started, sitting on the bottom of your bed. “How’s Draco?” she looked at you, smirking, and with a twinkle in her eye. You sat up quickly.

“I don’t know – have you seen him?” unable to feign any kind of disinterest at the mention of his name. “He hasn’t written to me in over a week,” you said.

At this, her jaw dropped, and she looked positively furious. “What!? He said – oh, that git! Well, never mind… you should go find him, I’m sure he wants to see you.” The look on her face made it seem like she meant this very minute. In fact, she did mean this very minute, because she then raised her eyebrows and shoved you off the bed.

“Merlin, Tracey, I’ve been gone a month, I’m sure he can wait an hour,” you sat back in your previous spot, too nervous to seek Draco out yet. “How are you, how have things been?”

“I refuse to answer personal questions until you’ve gone to speak to Malfoy.” She mimicked sealing and locking her lips with a key, which she pretended to throw across the room. This girl was already giving you a headache. You looked at her, hoping she’d drop the act, but she moved over to her bed and started looking through her book bag.

You huffed and left the room.

Nerves ensued as you made your way up the stairwell of the boy’s dormitories, stopping when you found yourself in front of the door that read ‘Sixth Years’. Muffled voices could be heard as you lifted you hand to knock. The door flew open less than a second after you banged on the door.

Blaise stood there, shocked at your sudden appearance. “Y/L/N,” he said rather loudly, “nice to see you. I didn’t know you were back,” he walked around you, nodded once, and trotted down the stairs. You didn’t expect much more from him, he certainly wasn’t someone you’d consider a close friend.

When you turned back to face the lowly-lit dorm room, you could see Theo leaning over to see you from where he stood. “Hey! What are you doing back? I didn’t know you were coming, come in!” he said joyously. You walked into the room and tried not to observe too harshly for any signs of Draco.

“I just got back.” You walked into his open arms to give him a quick hug. “How are you?” you asked, scanning the room. You were alone.

“I’m good, yeah. Just about to head to Charms. What about you? How are you doing?”

His attention diverted to that of his book-bag, so you walked around the room slowly, feigning innocent curiosity. You replied, “I’m good, thanks. Weird to be back, honestly. I won’t go back to classes and stuff until next week, though.”

“Ah, no way,” you heard, but you were focused now on the silver tin of Turkish Delights that sat on a messy desk, lid slightly ajar. “That’s good for you. I’d say you hadn’t missed much, but it’s been non-stop. Did you hear about Katie Bell?” he asked. You looked at him, and he was lifting up the covers on his bed, trying to find something.

You walked closer to the desk, “Yeah, I heard. I can’t believe it. Honestly, it’s kind of what tipped me over about coming back,” you said as you peaked into the tin, finding it almost empty. He liked them. You couldn’t control the smile that crept on to your face.

You looked over at Theo, who was now kneeling by his bed, desperately searching under it. Realising you had time, you moved the tin, hoping to find something that proved this desk was indeed Draco’s, and someone hadn’t just stolen his sweets.

You immediately caught sight of your name and address written in handwriting that you had been analysing meticulously for over a month. You stopped breathing, and completely lost your train of thought. Thankfully after some silence, Theo replied with, “Oh? How come, I thought it would do the opposite?” You looked and he was now searching under the bed next to his.

“Erm…” you slid the envelope quietly off the desk, far too curious to let it just sit there, and managed to say, “I just felt like it didn’t matter anymore if it was about me or not,” you slid the envelope into your back pocket as you watched Theo. “I don’t know, it just made me realise I shouldn’t have to hide,” you didn’t even know if what you were saying made any sense because all you could think about was the letter you were now in possession of.

Theo emerged from under his bed, book in hand, by the time you returned to the centre of the room. “I should go,” you said, “you have class. It was lovely to see you, though!” he gave you a wide grin.

“Glad to have you back, Y/L/N,” he said. “See you soon! We should have a party to celebrate this weekend!” he shouted as you began to exit through the door. You turned then, “oh no, we don’t have to do – ”

“Yes, we do! We’ll have a massive party! Well… not too massive. We still don’t know who… well –”

“Bye, Theo.”

You couldn’t have walked any faster to your dorm, whipping past a group of second years on the stairs. You were severely out of breath when you closed the door. Tracey must have left while you were gone because the room was dormant. Thank Merlin.

You whipped out the letter from your back pocket and when finally looking at it, felt a wave of guilt and anxiety rush over you. What if Draco noticed the letter was gone? Why hadn’t he sent it? Had he just forgotten to send it? _What did it say?_

You knew you weren’t going to take it back, so you decided to just rip off the seal. This could either go very well or very badly.

_Y/N,_

_You asked me for ten things that I like. Here they are._

  1. _Turkish Delight._
  2. _The sound of the lake against my dorm window._
  3. _Having someone to talk to._
  4. _Spending time with my mother._
  5. _Astronomy tower alone at night._
  6. _Sitting close to the fire._
  7. _Playing seeker for Slytherin._
  8. _Smell of hydrangeas._
  9. _Potions class._
  10. _You._



_Draco_

_P.S. I’d be more than willing to show you my generous side when you return._

You read it. And reread it. And reread it.

You were shaking, your heart pounding so loudly you could hear it beating in your eardrums.

This – you had been _waiting_ for this. _He said it._ He finally said it.

You sat on your bed, grasping the letter tightly. You truly couldn’t believe the words in front of you. You weren’t clutching at straws by believing this was finally admitting his feelings, were you?

Oh, Merlin, you needed Tracey right this second. Actually, no, not right this second, you needed time to read it again.

_P.S. I’d be more than willing to show you my generous side when you return._

You remembered vividly him trying to exclaim he could impress Slughorn in bed with his ability to be gentle and generous. Your thoughts had turned dark as soon as you read it, and you had to put the letter down and compose yourself before you could continue reading it.

Much like you’re feeling of doing now. Merlin’s bloody Beard.

You decided to fold up the letter and put it back in the envelope. You slid it into your pillowcase, desperate to keep it hidden and close to you, and you lay down to catch a breath.

‘Why didn’t he send it?’ you wondered. You felt guilty again. What if he never wanted to send it? What if he had intended on keeping his feelings to himself, and you took that away from him? Oh no, that wasn’t good. You would just see what move he made when he saw you and decide whether or not to mention it then.

You hoped he’d be excited to see you.

All this emotion and the soothing sounds of the lake had made you sleepy, so you pulled yourself up. You changed into something more comfortable and slipped under your sheets. A nap would do you well.

\--------

“Y/N,” you heard again and again. You stretched your legs and eventually opened your eyes, letting in the light of the green lanterns that surrounded the dorm. You hadn’t dreamed it.

Daphne was stood by your bed, looking down at you. “Hello!” she said with a big smile. She sat down and swooped you into a hug.

“It’s so nice to see you,” you said, smile matching hers. You pulled away to look at her, bracing yourself for the upcoming conversation.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” Millicent said kindly from behind her, exiting the door.

“Yeah, Y/L/N, welcome back,” you heard Pansy say, following closely behind her.

“Thanks, guys, good to see you,” you said with a faint smile. You were just being nice, honestly; neither Pansy, nor Millicent’s existence affected you greatly. You knew they felt the same.

They left for dinner, and Daphne hit you with a million questions on how you were feeling about being back, and what you did while you were at home. Tracey came in soon after and joined the conversation.

You opened up to them on how scared you had been, how anger and strength succeeded, and what your father had said when you told him you wanted to come back. They listened intently, and the ease you felt – finally being able to talk to the girls in front of you – was unbelievable. This was the friendship you had missed out on by closing yourself up after your mother’s death.

They told you about the happenings of Hogwarts over the past month, the only thing not work-related being the Hogsmeade trip. Tracey and Daphne had a wonderful time at Madam Puddifoots and had used most of their money on Sugar Quills and Chocolate Frogs in Honeydukes – completely missing the Katie Bell spectacle.

“It’s bloody mental,” Tracey said, looking rather exasperated. “Mum sent me a bleeding howler telling me not to touch anything that doesn’t belong to me.”

Daphne laughed, flicking her brown hair over her shoulder as she said, “It was hilarious, the whole school sat and listened to her mother screaming about Italy being the only place she would ever be free.”

Tracey was pink in the ears. “She’s bonkers. Anyway, did you find Malfoy earlier?”

Daphne looked curiously between you.

You shook your head and wondered whether or not to divulge the letter you found. You decided against it – you wanted to see what Draco had to say before anything else. “No, he wasn’t in his dorm.”

“I rarely see him,” Daphne said with curiosity. “He comes to class and… sometimes I see him in the Great Hall, but he doesn’t really talk… and he’s never in the common room. I wonder if his father being in Azkaban is taking a toll, or maybe exams are just stressing him out.”

You truly hoped he was okay. Not hearing from him for a week, only to find out he has been reclusive from everyone – well, this was unlike him. He was a people-person and seemed to always find someone to share his worries with. You wondered if he was telling Pansy what was troubling him.

Before you could say anything, your stomach let out a proud rumble. “Dinner,” Daphne pronounced.

\-------

An hour passed at the dinner table before you caught your first sight of Draco, though he didn’t notice you. You watched as he sat himself down - surrounded by no one you knew him to be friends with - and slowly put a spoonful of food on his plate. He didn’t look up, or around him; solitary in every move he made.

You couldn’t help being shocked by how ill he looked. You were too far away to get much detail of his features, though you could see that much. What had happened in the month you were gone? He seemed his usual self in his letters, and you couldn’t imagine the boy you saw now to have written them.

He didn’t stay long. Ten minutes or so passed, and despite your doting eye, he managed to slip out unnoticed. Your head snapped up to see if he was still in the room, and you caught sight of his silver hair moving by by the door. You didn’t even think, just muttered goodbye to your friends, and made your way down the hall as quickly as your legs could carry you.

When you got to the exit, you scanned your surroundings and saw Draco walking along to the left wing at the top of the staircase. Why would he be going upstairs?

The urge to let your legs practice their sprinting ability and chase after him was overwhelming. You felt like you had so many questions, so much to know. Instead of following him, you stood still. You didn’t want to bother him, and you’d rather not have to chase after him to get him to talk to you. Especially if he didn’t want to talk to you. _How could he write a letter like that and not want to talk to you?_ It didn’t matter, you weren’t even sure of what to say to the boy.

Walking toward the marble staircase, you decide to follow in the general direction he went – and if you ran into him, then it was fate. Not that you were a devout Divination student, but in moments like these, you often found it best to leave your decisions in the hands of the universe. ‘What is meant to be, will be,’ as they say.

You collected a few Arithmancy books from the library, after walking down every aisle, hoping to catch a glimpse of platinum hair. You even checked the restricted section. When you finally gave up, you wound your way through random corridors, going nowhere in particular. Truthfully, you were glad for the walk-around. You had missed the buzzing of magic in the air here. Although, you weren’t sure how safe you were wandering around on your own.

A few of the portraits said hello and gave you a welcome-back as you roamed. You eventually found your way to Gryffindor Tower, and as you passed it, your eyes landed upon Hermione and Harry climbing the stairs below you.

Hermione’s greeting almost equaled Tracey’s, bar knocking you to the ground – though she managed to send your books flying. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back!? I waited for your letter but you didn’t – ”

“I know, I know. It was all very sudden,” you laughed, catching Harry’s look of amusement.

“Hey,” he said, smiling. “How are you?” You chuckled as Hermione scrambled to collect your books, inspecting the spines and pages to make sure there wasn’t any damage.

“Good, thanks! Alive,” you joked. “Thanks, Hermione.” 

A light seemed to turn on in Harry’s brain, and he quickly spoke, “Y/N, do you remember anything about that day? Any idea who might have – ” he didn’t manage to get another word out, as Hermione smacked him over the head with a copy of the Evening Prophet.

“Harry, I swear, if you don’t let this go!”

“It wasn’t Draco,” you gave a small, knowing smile. “It just – wasn’t. He wouldn’t do that; I don’t know why you think he would.” He opened his mouth to retort, but you continued. “If he’s up to something else, I don’t know – I’ve heard he’s… been a bit of a loner, recently. Hopefully I’ll find out, but… I seriously doubt that it’s Death Eater activities, Harry.”

He sighed heavily through his nose; lips pressed in a thin line.

“Don’t bother speaking if you don’t have compelling evidence,” said Hermione curtly.

“I – ” he huffed dramatically, and mumbled, “nice to see you,” before stomping past you and entering the common room.

“Sorry,” Hermione smiled, “would you like to come in for a bit?” She motioned toward the portrait of the Fat Lady at the top of the stairs. You shook your head.

“No, I think I should get back to my dorm, but thank you,” you said gently, “if you have a free period tomorrow, we could chat about everything then? About Dumbledore, too?”

She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes, of course! I have the afternoon free so I could meet you at lunch?” you agreed to this, and both said your goodbyes. There would be much to discuss tomorrow.

\--------

“Good night, Y/N,” you heard Daphne call from the stairs. “Good night,” you hollered. The fire burned brightly in front of you, and your hands twisted around in front of it, catching the heat. You weren’t in the least bit tired; your mind racing from the events of the day, and Draco’s list repeating constantly in your head.

_Sitting close to the fire._

Your hands curled at the thought of him sitting next to you, enjoying the warmth. You imagined him behind you, legs and arms wrapped around you, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, and then groaned at the pain you were putting yourself in. He could already be in bed, you think, but you’d been in the dungeons since you left Hermione and you hadn’t seen him come in. Where could he be? What was he doing? You desperately wanted to seek him out and ask him if he was okay.

_Astronomy tower alone at night._

Your brain switched on. There! He had to be there.

Should you go? You saw no reason why not. The exercise would tire you out, at the very least. At the very most, Draco would be there and you would get your chance to talk to him. 

Like that moment in the hospital wing, you decided to throw caution to the wind. What’s the worst that could happen? You grabbed your robe and shoved it on as you hurried out of the common room. As you made your way up the secret stairway, toward the Entrance Hall, you remembered your first patrol of the year, with Draco trailing behind you. Your feet moved faster.

After trudging up what felt like hundreds of steps, and walking hastily through dimly-lit corridors, you wished for what must be the millionth time in your life that there were portkeys dotted about to take you to different parts of the castle.

It must have been twenty minutes before you finally reached the top of the Astronomy Tower staircase, with your heart pounding, and not just because of the exercise. You opened the door to find a milky white half-moon, and glistening stars in the otherwise empty sky. The air was crisp and bit at your nose and ears. As you looked around, you saw no signs of anyone else present.

You sighed, and walked out onto the tower. You felt at a loss, once again, and the urge to see Draco was driving you mad. As was the fact that now you were ready to open yourself up to Draco again, he decided to do a complete disappearing act. How had you let him become so important to you? 

You urged yourself to give this up. You had done just fine without him for four years, and you would continue to be just fine. _You didn’t need him._

But you wanted him.

You couldn’t lie to yourself. No matter how much you hated it, all you wanted was to be around him.You had feelings for him. And he, quite possibly, had feelings for -

“Who’s there?”

You froze. Was that?

“Hello?” the voice repeated.

Oh Merlin, _as if._ You turned around to face the door. “Hello,” you said, the shock you felt present in your voice. Your suspicions were confirmed by the sight of white-blond hair shining in the moonlight.

“Who is it?” he moved slowly toward you, and you noticed his wand raised in the air.

“Is that a wand in your hand or are you just happy to see me?” you jested, gaining a bit of confidence, and hoping to bring about a good mood. He stopped dead in his tracks, and his body stiffened. You could see his face now, and it was stunned, to say the least. His skin was extremely pale, lilac circles forming under his eyes. The cold wind seemed to be turning the tip of his nose pink. He lowered his wand.

“Y/N?” he blinked dramatically. “How? What – when did you? I didn’t know you were – you’re _here_ ,” he said, sounding utterly flabbergasted as he looked you up and down.

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped your lips, “I’m here,” you said. “And _you’re_ here. What are you doing?”

He licked his lips, “I’m sorry I didn’t write you back. I’ve – I’ve had loads on, I’m sorry.” He began fidgeting with his hands, and looked down at his feet. He did indeed seem very sorry. You immediately felt guilty for stealing his letter.

“It’s alright,” you started, “I was just worried about you. Are you alright?”

He was breathing heavily, and seemed to have a battle going on inside his head, as if debating whether he was really alright.

“Yeah,” he said firmly. “Are you? When did you get back?”

“This afternoon,” you said. “I saw you at dinner, but you didn’t see me.”

“Sorry,” he rushed. You could practically hear the cogs turning in his head. What was he thinking?

“What are you doing up here?” you asked, hoping to coax something out of him.

“I er – I just like coming here at night…” he walked towards the ledge, standing next to you. “It’s nice,” he said quietly.

A soft breeze blew past and your hair danced with it as you asked, “You like it?”

Now was your moment.

You turned to face the horizon, looking at the vast space over the Black Lake, and you felt him do the same. Your shoulders were almost touching. The stars above seemed to ebb and flow in their brightness.

“Like you like… other things?” your heart was pounding. “Sitting by the fire, for example? The smell of hydrangeas?” your face must have looked mighty guilty, and he looked at you - eyes wild and mouth ajar - as though you had just asked him to help you bury a body.

“Like you… like me?”

His face dropped. He turned back towards the lake, eyes like steel, and he didn’t move again until you whispered, “Why didn’t you send it?” into the midnight air.

Gone were his hard eyes, which now resembled those of a starving man. He was flustered and searching your face greedily. You knew your eyes were giving you away, but you didn’t feel the need to reign yourself in. You wanted to see exactly what would happen if you were honest with him.

“I was drunk, I was – when I wrote it – I was drunk,” he spurted out, and tore his eyes away from you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What does that mean?

“They say drunk words are sober thoughts,” you stated slowly. He put his hand against the stone wall, as if to steady himself. You needed to be brave.

“I wish you had sent it,” you whispered. He stood extraordinarily still. You didn’t speak until he looked at you with desperate eyes.

“I like you, too,” you finally said, very unsure of yourself. You couldn’t tell if he wanted to hear it. He stood like a broken tower before you. 

His arm fell from the wall, and he took a step back, continuing to look at you. His face was soft, weak, and frantic, and his gaze clung desperately to your features. You dared not move an inch.

The only thing you could hear was the whistling of the wind, as you stared at each other longingly.

“Say it again,” he said, breaking the silence. His mouth was slightly ajar, and you could see his chest heaving. Your heart leaped at his aching stare.

“I like you,” you repeated firmly, fear blowing away in the breeze.

He strode forward, and you felt his hands cup your face. His fingertips made their way behind your ears and into your hair. His touch was like a jolt of electricity, and your hands moved straight to his neck. Warm breath fell against your lips, as he brought his face closer to yours. As your cold noses brushed against each other gently, you swore you could smell Turkish Delight.

His thumb stroked your cheekbone, causing you to blink heavily. This was exquisite. His eyes were desperately searching yours for approval. You inched a little bit closer, lips sweeping softly against his as you whispered, “I like you, Draco Malfoy.” You felt his breath hitch, and you knew when he leaned in to claims your lips with his that nothing else in this world could ever feel so right.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Rec: Timeless - Sea Girls

Time seemed to slip away with the wind up on the Astronomy Tower. Draco’s hands in your hair, sliding down to your waist. Walking backwards – carefully, and entirely unhurried – until your back was against the wall, never letting go in the process. Pulling him closer by his jumper; as close as you possibly could. Your hands around his neck.

You consumed each other as though this was a meal you’d both been craving desperately for years. And it was.

His lips moved to your chin, cheek, jawline. Your neck. And despite your eyes being closed, you could have sworn the stars were burning brighter than ever. Your hands drifted up to his hair automatically, and you let out a heavy sigh when he hummed against your skin. It was a mystery that your legs hadn’t given out yet. He drifted up to your ear, lips dragging slowly along your skin.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he breathed. The choice of words and the sensation of his breath tickling against your ear was so damn delightful it evoked the quietest of moans from you.

His face was once against in front of yours, and extremely close but no longer touching. An arm of his was against the wall, by your head. You were both panting when you asked, “You have?”

He licked his lips and nodded. His expression wasn’t playful, or flirtatious. He was deadly serious.

“I think I’ve wanted this for longer than I had ever admitted to myself,” you whispered. You reached out slowly for the fingers on his spare hand. You felt his fingers slide and graze against yours gently, as he drank you in. He didn’t reply, only watched you as your breath hitched when he started drawing patterns on your palm.

He looked so beautiful with his swollen lips and flushed cheeks, his tousled hair bright in the moonlight. Angelic.

Your other hand reached for his tie, which you stroked with your thumb a few times before tugging it gently and pulling him closer. Leaning in, you kissed very close to his mouth, but not quite. You barely got a chance to pull away before his lips were on yours again.

You could do this with him forever.

Your tongue scraped his top lip, and his hand dropped yours and gripped your hip gently. Every touch, every breath had you on fire. The hand that had been against the wall moved to the back of your neck as his tongue grazed yours. You gripped his robes, and just as well that you did, because an enormous gust of wind blew past which caused you both to pull away in shock. You buried your head in his chest and he put his arm around your neck, stopping your hair from flying in all directions.

It grew fiercer for a moment and you braced yourselves, but it eventually eased to little more than a strong breeze. You looked up and saw rather large clouds beginning to cover the sky.

“Inside?” you asked as the wind began to pick back up. You didn’t give him a chance to answer as you took his hand, fingers slipping between his, and dragged him quickly to the stairwell.

Neither of you spoke as you descended the staircase, but his thumb rubbed yours the entire way. You were glad he was a step behind you because you couldn’t hide the smile on your face.

When you reached the bottom, you both stopped and looked at each other. You couldn’t help but feel shy all of a sudden, and you could see he felt the same. You let out a breathy laugh and said, “Well, then.”

He raised an eyebrow and couldn’t stop the ridiculously wide grin that graced his lips when he said, “Well, then.”

You were beaming with every inch of your being. Taking a deep breath, you bit your lip in an attempt to stop smiling, but it didn’t work. He wiggled his eyebrows at you, and you rolled your eyes and laughed before walking, dragging his hand with you.

You didn’t get very far before he stopped and pulled you back, leaning straight in for a swift kiss. He pulled away and tried to keep walking, but it was far too quick for your liking, so you stayed put and pulled him straight back.

He laughed into your mouth, and you thought this might be the best feeling in the entire world. To be like this, with him. To make him laugh, to kiss him, to be close to him.

You couldn’t help smiling, and you both stood there for a moment nudging noses and softly laughing until an abrupt cough pulled you both away.

Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil were gawping at you from the bottom of the corridor.

A definite mood-killer.

“Erm… we’re doing rounds tonight,” Anthony squawked out, as wide-eyed as you must have been at the sudden intrusion.

“We were just going back to the dungeons,” you said quickly. You gave a curt smile and started walking, hoping Draco would follow suit. Anthony just nodded, looking uncomfortable and Padma was watching you with shocked amusement. This wasn’t good – you knew Padma would manage to spread this throughout the entire sixth year by lunchtime tomorrow.

You felt Draco’s hand slip into yours as you passed the Ravenclaw prefects, and your heart leaped. Looking behind you, you caught both of them glancing over their shoulders before continuing down the corridor.

You looked up at Draco, who was staring ahead with an expression you found very hard to read. He didn’t look down but gave your hand a light squeeze.

“So,” you started, after walking silently for a short while. “I’m glad you liked the Turkish Delight.”

“They taste like roses,” he said immediately, casting a small smile your way.

“Yeah, they do. I love them.”

Draco hummed in agreement, before asking rather timidly, “How did you – who gave you the letter?”

“No one,” you replied sheepishly. Confession time. “I came to see you when I got back, but you weren’t in your dorm. Theo let me in, and I saw it on your desk. I’m sorry for taking it but I was so curious I nearly burst, and I hadn’t heard from you in over a week and – ”

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled, looking rather relieved. “I would have taken it if I was you.” He was looking down at you kindly, “Besides, I guess I got the outcome I was after when I wrote it,” he looked down at your joined hands and swung them lightly.

This made you smile. “To say I was excited when I read it would be an understatement,” you laughed, and you felt your cheeks flame.

His eyes were shining silver. “Really?” he asked, looking stunned. “I honestly had no idea how you felt. You’re very hard to read, you know.”

You swallowed, feeling a little guilty. “I know,” you said. “I always liked to keep a distance from… people. Especially you.”

His eyebrows crumpled tightly in confusion. “Why especially me?”

You took a moment to respond. You weren’t even sure of the answer yourself; you had just always followed your instincts. “I guess because – well, I knew you could do the most damage. You were always special to me, even if you didn’t know it.”

He stopped walking, and you turned to look at him. You couldn’t read his expression as he stared between you and the darkness in the Transfiguration Courtyard, by which you were now stood.

He was still for a minute, and you spent the silence trying to figure out what he was going to say. It certainly surprised you when he asked, “Do you see those bushes over there? By the big tree?”

You looked, having to squint to see a row of green bushes surrounding the tree. You remembered they were the white hydrangea bushes; you sometimes liked to sit there in the warmer months to study because they were beautiful.

“Yeah, the hydrangea bushes?”

He nodded. “In third year, when I got out of the hospital wing after I was… attacked by that bloody hippogriff,” he looked at you with a raised eyebrow when you snorted.

“Sorry. It was brutal, I shouldn’t laugh at your near-death experience.”

His lips twitched in amusement before he continued, “Anyway, as I was saying. That day, I walked down here, and I saw you studying by the bushes. It was sunny and I remember thinking ‘she looks so pretty’. After that, I would sometimes sit there and imagine you studying with me, but I never had the confidence to ask you outright.”

You stopped breathing. How long had he felt this way about you? And the hydrangeas. Is that why – “Is that why you like the smell of hydrangeas?” you asked, already embarrassed that his answer was going to be ‘no’.

He slowly nodded. “I guess so. We have some in the gardens at home. I like to sit there, too.”

“The ones you sent after my mother died, were those from…”

“Yeah, they were from the garden,” he gave you a soft smile. “You wore them in your hair at the Yule Ball.”

You couldn’t control the surprise on your face. “You remember that? Wait, how do you know they were the ones you sent?” you asked.

“Of course, I remember. I know they were mine because the flowers in our garden have been charmed so they never die. Hydrangeas aren’t in season in December, so you couldn’t have gotten them anywhere else. They had to have been the ones I gave you.” He was smirking. So bloody full of himself. You wanted to kiss him again.

“Well, that makes sense,” you said. You reached into your pocket and pulled out a tiny white flower, holding it up to him in your palm. He marvelled at it. “I originally thought they would die, so I kept some in a book to press them, but every time I’d open the book, they’d spring right back out. I’ve carried one of these with me since I came back to school in fourth year. I keep a little bunch from the bouquet you sent wrapped up in my trunk,” you smiled. He was blinking at you, looking dumbfounded.

You continued, “I’ll keep them in my robes or my trouser pockets; anywhere. I don’t know why, I’ve just… always believed that if I have one with me, I’ll be safe. Like they’ll somehow protect me. Call me superstitious, but I was right, too,” you sighed. “The only time in two years that I haven’t had one with me was last month, when I was cursed. I didn’t realise until after it had happened, when I checked my pockets. I must have dropped it or something, I don’t know, but that’s the only day I haven’t had one with me.”

You slipped the flower back into your pocket and looked at Draco, who was blinking at you. You knew he probably didn’t know what to say to that, so you said, “Weird, right?”

He nodded. “Very. I – I don’t really know what to say. Is it weird that I feel flattered?”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I suppose not. Carrying around the flowers that you gave me every day for two years – I can see why that’s a compliment.”

“I’m sorry you feel like you have to do that; that you need… protection. But I’m glad… I suppose, that I – I kind of gave it to you,” he still looked utterly confused by this entire situation. You reached up and caressed his cheek. He melted into your hand and closed his eyes.

“You did give it to me,” you smiled kindly. Taking his hand, you began to lead him further down the corridor.

The rest of the journey down to the dungeons consisted of more kissing than questions. Sneaking in and out of dark alcoves – hoping not to get caught a second time. The way Draco’s eyes would flicker between your eyes and your lips would haunt you every time you pulled away. You did not want this night to ever end, and the closer you got to the common room, the worse the feeling of dread would get; just knowing that you’d soon have to leave him.

You were now stood behind a tapestry, around the corner from the common room. “I don’t want to say good night,” you whispered.

He nudged his nose against your head and placed a ghost of a kiss on your temple before saying, “Me either. I just want to stay here with you.”

You buried your head in his chest, inhaling his signature scent, and he wrapped his arms around you. His head rested on top of yours, and you slid your arms around him before he leaned back against the wall. This was everything. The way you felt right now, you wanted to hold on to it forever.

Draco’s hand lightly stroked your back and he’d occasionally kiss the top of your head, and it was making you undeniably sleepy. You wished you could lay next to him as you went to sleep, like you had in the hospital wing.

Eventually you knew you had to go to bed, and you tilted your head up and placed a soft kiss on his neck. You felt his breath catch in his throat, and you kissed his cheek before saying, “I’m so tired.”

He let out a breath of a laugh and gently pecked you on the lips before he stuck his head out of the tapestry, checking for anyone around. When it was safe, he slipped his fingers between yours and slowly lead you out towards the common room. Your eyelids drew heavier the closer you got, and when you finally made it inside, it took you everything you had to not suggest you both curled up on the sofa together.

When you got to the centre of the two staircases, still holding hands, you looked at each other sombrely. You couldn’t stop yourself lifting up on your tip toes, wrapping your arms around his neck and placing a firm kiss on his lips, which he eagerly reciprocated. He bent down to deepen the kiss, arms securely around your waist.

Even if Charms and Potions and the Dark Arts had not existed, you knew what you could feel right now was magic. It was breath-taking and powerful, and it tugged at every fibre of your being. The graze of his tongue, the heat of his breath, the grip of his teeth on your bottom lip – this was a magnetic, and it had you weak in his arms.

It wasn’t until you stopped for breath that you decided to pull yourself from him, knowing that if you didn’t do it now, you’d ask him to stay until dawn.

“Okay,” you panted, giving him one last peck. “Good night.”

He smirked and watched as you took a step back. “Good night,” he nodded.

You couldn’t hide the pure joy you felt, and you smiled as you turned around, managing two steps before he dragged you back for another kiss. “Breakfast, tomorrow?” He whispered against your lips.

You nodded, smiling and kissed him one final time, before definitively leaving. You turned around as you were climbing the stairs, only to see him watching you until you were out of sight.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Rec - Heaven - The Neighbourhood

Draco scanned the common room, waiting for her to appear. It was empty, spare a fourth year who was furiously doing homework due in their first period. It was only 6.30 and far too early for the average teenager to be awake. He looked more casual than he felt, lounging on a sofa by the fire, rubbing his eyes in a tired state. He hadn’t slept much, his mind had been too busy whizzing, but when he had slept, his dreams were all of her.

He had replayed the fervent kisses and desperate touches in his head all night long. Her soft whispers and laughter against his lips. He wanted to relive it over and over, and let those memories block out everything else that was happening. It had been the most incredible night of his life.

He thanked Merlin she’d stolen that letter (and that her reaction was actually a good one), despite his reluctance to originally send it. It had stayed on his desk for over a week, after waking up with a headache and overwhelming shame that he’d been so open about his feelings; both in the letter and to Tracey Davis. He stirred over sending it for a few days, knowing it was a good letter, but was ultimately too embarrassed, thinking she’d soon reject him and tell him she just wanted to be friends, despite Tracey egging him on.

He forgot about the letter altogether in the midst of his post-fuck-up breakdown, after his plan to get the cursed necklace to Dumbledore exploded in his face. He had spent the rest of the week between the Seventh-Floor bathroom and the Astronomy Tower; crying, vomiting, forgetting how to breathe, and trying to figure out how to fix his colossal failure before the Dark Lord found out.

And then she came back. Just as he was about to scream helplessly into the vast black sky, she was there with her teasing smile and shining eyes, and she was so fucking beautiful. He almost collapsed to his knees and wept.

He was at his absolute worst, and there she was, as always; a beacon of light in his darkness; whispering words he had only ever dreamed would leave her lips.

And he kissed her.

It was _perfect_.

Although, Goldstein and the Patil girl would no doubt manage to tell the whole school about it, since they’d caught them wrapped up in each other. Goldstein’s face had been priceless. He had noticed him fawning over Y/N over the years, and Draco’s frustration was badly contained as she had always given him the time of day.

He dreaded Pansy finding out. She had avoided him like the plague after the party, spending most of her time with Bulstrode and Crabbe. He hoped she may soon take a liking to someone else. She was a beautiful girl; she could have anyone she wanted. Just… not him. He didn’t feel that way toward her in the slightest.

It wasn’t just Pansy he was worried about finding out; he was anxious about anyone knowing at all. He didn’t have a clue what was going to happen between he and Y/N, and he’d rather figure it out without the whole bloody school sticking their noses in. Although, judging by the footsteps he could hear and the traces of musky coconut in the air, he may soon find out.

“Morning,” he heard her say over the pounding of his heart, pulling him out of his thoughts.

He looked up to see Y/N smiling rather nervously. Her nose crinkled as he took her in, and he almost expressed out loud how breath-taking she looked. He could feel the way he was looking at her, but he couldn’t control it at this point, and the blush on her cheeks made him revel in the effect he seemed to have.

“Hi,” he said, and smiled softly. He stood up slowly and watched as she payed close attention to his movements.

“Hungry?” She asked.

Draco’s eyes danced with hers. “Starving,” he said, and he knew by her smile that the look on his face gave away that it wasn’t food he was hungry for.

“Well, then,” she beamed back, biting her bottom lip. He couldn’t help the grin that completely took over his face when she said this, referring to their awkward moment from the night before.

“Well, then,” he laughed, pulling a hand through his hair and then motioned towards the door.

They walked quietly, hands brushing as they exited the common room. It sent jolts up his arm and the already-fluttering butterflies in his stomach went berserk. He looked at her, and she wore a small smile on her face as she led him to the secret staircase.

He didn’t reach for her hand until they began walking through the doors of the Great Hall, which housed a single early riser at the Hufflepuff table. The sun still hadn’t risen – though by the colour of the sky it was just about to.

“The sun is going to rise soon… we could go to the lake?” he asked, knowing it would be much more romantic than a soon-to-be bustling breakfast table – and far away from prying eyes.

She lit up at the suggestion and his heart fluttered as she tugged at his hand, leading him towards the Slytherin table to quickly steal some breakfast. They each grabbed a few slices of toast and some coffee. There was more crunching of toast than conversation on the walk down, cold air nipping at their ears. It was so bitter that it hurt Draco’s nose to breathe too harshly, but it was also incredibly satisfying.

When they got down to the lake, the sky was bright, but the sun still hadn’t hit the horizon. The grass by the lake was covered in frosty red leaves. Y/N held their two coffee mugs in her hand as he extended his scarf into a large blanket for the two of them to sit on.

“I love this time of day,” she stated. “It’s a pity I’m such a night owl.”

He hummed in agreement as he shook the extended scarf and placed it gently on top of the grass. “How did you sleep?” He asked, watching in amusement as she put her face in the steam that was rising from the mugs to keep warm.

“I didn’t, really. Only got a few hours. You?” she handed him his coffee, and they sat down, leaning against each other for warmth. He turned to pull the back of the blanket up, covering both of their shoulders. He wanted to drown in the aromas of coffee and her perfume in the crisp morning air forever.

“Same. I had a dream about you, though,” he confessed, giving her a cheeky wink.

She raised her eyebrows and gave him a playful smile. “Did you now? What happened in the dream?”

“You said I was an amazing kisser,” he took a large sip of the hot coffee as he watched her reaction. It had actually been a rather depressing dream, in which she was stuck on top of a star and he couldn’t get his broom high enough to reach her, no matter how hard he tried.

She didn’t miss a beat when she said, “Are you sure that was a dream?” and gave him a little smirk before lifting her mug to her lips. His heart flipped and the ability to breathe completely escaped him.

“Well, then!” he wheezed in a state of shock. His smile was so wide that it hurt his cheeks.

She laughed loudly to herself and was a little bit red in the face. He knew as he watched her dimples fade away and her curious eyes follow the sound of birds chirping in the autumn trees that he’d never have this kind of pull towards anyone else. He wondered if she felt the same magnetism between them – if she was drawn to him the same way he was her.

He nudged the back of her hand with his knuckle, and quickly ran a finger across the skin just to touch her. Her hand immediately left her mug and she let her fingers dance with his for a moment, before fully holding his hand and exclaiming, “Oh, _the sun_!”

Sure enough, sunshine was breaking over the horizon, peaking through the mountains. It reflected off the lake, giving it a magical golden hue. The autumn trees that spanned the mountains seemed to really bring the scene together, and while he admired the beauty of the moment, he mentally pat himself on the back for this excellent idea.

They stayed there, mostly joking with each other, for an hour or so before he had to relinquish and go to his first period. She wasn’t due to go back to her lessons until the following Monday, so he was unfortunately alone in this. Though, probably for the best, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep his eyes off her.

As they made their way into the castle, he got the sense that she didn’t want to leave him either, as she lingered and missed the door to the stairwell down to the dungeons. He took this as his cue.

“Be a gentleman,” he jested, “and walk a lady to her lesson?”

She let out a breathy laugh, looking rather relieved he had asked.

“Oh, _of course_ , darling. I’d never leave you all on your own.” She held out her arm, gesturing for him to hold it. He did so and they both chuckled as they walked up the stairs. He let his hand slip down her arm slowly with each step they took, and by the time they reached the top his fingers were tightly entwined with hers. She nudged her nose into his shoulder, smiling shyly, before they continued on, and he beamed.

No one seemed to pay them much attention on their way to the classroom, despite her casual attire, and their handholding. That was until someone yelled, “FUCKING FINALLY!” from behind them. They didn’t need to turn around to find the culprit, as Professor Flitwick’s voice quickly boomed through the corridor.

“MISS DAVIS! Watch your language! 5 points from Slytherin!”

When they turned around, Tracey was looking at Flitwick with contempt as he stormed past her, and Daphne was shaking her head in disbelief at Tracey’s outburst.

He looked down at Y/N who was pink in the face, looking as though she’d been caught cheating on a test. He laughed at her wide eyes, while their housemates walked towards them. Tracey scanned between them both, zoning in on their hands. “Worth it,” she grinned, also laughing at Y/N’s expression.

“Was it?” Y/N raised her eyebrow, though she could no longer hide her amusement.

“Don’t get your knickers in a twist,” Tracey smirked. “Though, I’m sure Malfoy could sort them out for you.”

“Whose knickers I’m untwisting is my business, Davis,” he teased, looking down at Y/N who was once again wide-eyed.

“ _My_ knickers are _my_ business, actually,” she drawled.

“Oh,” Draco pouted, and looked down, pretending to look sad. “Well, then,” Y/N rolled her eyes, a charmed smile making its way onto her lips. “I guess I know where we stand.”

Tracey and Daphne sniggered at that, and Draco wondered where he had gotten the sudden energy to be his joking, sarcastic self in front of other people.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake.” Y/N laughed, but tried to sober the conversation with, “You’re gonna be late.”

Tracey tutted, and reached for Daphne’s hand. “Come on, Daph, maybe I’ll have time to untwist _your_ knickers before the bell rings,” she grinned knowingly at he and Y/N, who were now both in a state of shock.

Daphne’s face flamed and she shushed Tracey and dragged her away.

“OH MY GOD!” Y/N exclaimed, and Tracey winked at them over her shoulder.

“Are they…” He heard himself speak. This was news to him, although he somehow didn’t find it surprising.

“They… must be…” she blinked rapidly, eyes unfocused as she lost herself in her train of thought. “They kept that bloody quiet! I mean, I knew it would happen eventually, but Merlin!”

He laughed and looked at their joined hands. “She’s obviously been thinking the same about you.” He wanted to say ‘us,’ but were they an ‘us’?

She looked down with a small smile on her face. “Yeah, she definitely seemed to think we’d happen eventually.” Before he could speak, she took a deep breath, looked up at him and said, “Okay, you have a class to get to.”

The bell rang just as they approached the classroom door, and a Ravenclaw girl he didn’t know the name of quickly rushed past them. He stopped to look at Y/N for a moment, not really sure what to do. Should he kiss her goodbye? He wanted to. Should he ask to see her later? He wanted to do that, too. Was anyone watching them right now?

“You’re late,” she smirked. He shrugged, still not wanting to leave. “We’ve already lost 5 points this morning,” she was still smirking at him, and Merlin he wanted to kiss the smugness off her face. He froze, thinking she could read his mind, as she lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed the skin very close to his mouth. Now he really didn’t want to go to class.

“I’ll see you later,” she whispered, before returning to her normal height, and letting go of his hand. He felt an immediate loss. She quickly turned and walked away in the direction they came, her perfume lingering in the air. He huffed and dragged himself into the classroom.

He needed to get his hands on a time-turner. This would not do.

Luckily, they met again by chance that night, after dinner. They ended up lounging on a couch in one of the hidden areas of the common room for a while, trying to focus on homework, but they spent most of the time looking at each other from across the sofa. When they’d been there for a couple of hours, he noticed her eyelids drooping as she read, and he proclaimed bedtime before packing up their things.

He didn’t get very far into it before she protested and pulled him down on the sofa to lay with her.

It was he who managed to be bold this time, finally leaning in for the kiss he’d thought about all day. It was soft and saccharine. Her mouth tasted distinctly of sticky toffee pudding. They were there for a while, gently biting and teasing, tugging at each other’s shirts in an attempt to get closer. He all but melted on to the floor every time their tongues collided. Luckily, the area in which they lay was guarded by a heavy black curtain, so they were well and truly alone. It was Heaven, and he replayed it over and over in his head when he left her for the night and walked to the Room of Requirement.

——-

Draco’s insistent desire to be around Y/N actually helped him in some ways. After just over a week, he had returned to a normal routine. He was present at mealtimes and in lessons, so as to see her. They occasionally shared their free periods alone together, mostly in the library where they’d find a cozy spot to do homework, or (more often than not) completely ignore any notion of work. 

Her presence was good for him. The darkness that lodged itself into the rest of his life would disappear when he was with her. He lived for the teasing and touching; the stolen glances across classrooms, her whispery moans as they kissed in dark alcoves, their private jokes, her laugh.

So, during the day, he would let himself have this normal life with her. He would go to the Room of Requirement after curfew, or during a break when he knew he wouldn’t see her. He would spend around an hour at a time there, performing the charms and enchantments he needed to on the cabinet. The more attention he paid to it, the quicker he’d be able to get out of Hogwarts - although, he couldn’t deny that he didn’t really like the idea of leaving anymore.

He didn’t want to do this. He avoided thinking about it as much as possible, considering the outcomes of him succeeding and failing were both beginning to look as bad as each other. His mind was blank for the most part; he tried to live in the moment for a while. He knew if he thought too hard about it, he would end up back on the cold floor of Myrtle’s bathroom, and so his thoughts revolved around Y/N instead.

“Well, now that I know you’re into girls… what’s your opinion on Madame Rosmerta?” he heard Theo ask from across the dinner table.

“When will you shut up about Madame Rosmerta?” Blaise laughed.

“She’s fit!” Theo exclaimed. Draco would have joined in the conversation, had the mention of Rosmerta’s name not hit him with a severe wave of anxiety.

“Tracey likes her, but I don’t really see it,” he heard Daphne say, her cheeks a rosey pink.

“I see it,” Y/N laughed, head resting in her hand. “She has nice…” she scanned the table, looking for an acceptable euphemism, “jugs?”

The surrounding students burst into laughter, including Draco.

“Not you too!” cried Theo. “Merlin, all the good ones are gone.” He put his shaking head in his hands.

“Oh, please, Theo. You couldn’t handle any of us anyway,” said Tracey.

“I’ll prove you wrong any time you like, Trace,” he winked. “Our dorm room is always open to you.”

“No, it’s not,” said Blaise, eyebrows raised in attempt to hide his amusement.

“If that’s your attitude, Zabini, our dorm room may not be open to _you_ for much longer. I reckon we - ”

Draco zoned out of the conversation as he watched Y/N pull out her black leather notebook and start scribbling with a muggle pen. He noticed her doing this at random intervals during the past week, and when he asked her about it she said she’d often have passing thoughts that would drift away with the wind, never to return, if she didn’t write them down.

“What are you writing?” he whispered in her ear, hoping to get a reaction. She shivered, turning slowly so her face was mere centimetres from his. She stared at his lips for a few seconds, and he had to fight the urge to kiss her in front of everyone.

“It’s a secret,” she teased, and he wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“Oh?”

She hummed; her face so close he could almost feel it against his lips. His attention was drawn away from her when he felt something land in his hair and Theo shout, “Oi, pack it in!”

It was a crisp.

Draco rolled his eyes and dropped the crisp back on the table. Theo had taken the news that he and Y/N were an item a lot better than he originally thought. It also didn’t hurt that Draco gave him the ten galleons he would have won from rigging their bet, which Theo used to then bet Blaise he couldn’t get Gwenog Jones from the Holyhead Harpies to kiss him at Slughorn’s next party.

He looked back at Y/N who was putting her notebook away.

She grinned in amusement when she saw his expectant expression. “I forgot that I need to owl Madame Rosmerta about ordering some vintage wine for my dad for Christmas,” she spoke lowly, so only Draco could hear her. “Mum used to get it every year, so I’ve got to carry on the tradition. If I don’t write it down, I – ”

“You’ll forget?” he laughed.

She pecked him on the lips, smiling softly. This only encouraged him, and as he stole another kiss, a hideous idea intruded Draco’s brain.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Rec: Ocean of Noise - Arcade Fire

“How did it go?” your voice rang through the dark, empty corridor.

“You look beautiful,” said Draco, ignoring your question and gawking at you in your slinky, black dress. Your heart spun. Moments like this excited you; moments where you were truly alone with him. They didn’t happen nearly often enough.

“So do you,” you responded, not missing a beat. And he did. He always did, with his intense silver stare and sharp cheekbones and the most kissable lips you’d ever seen. Any free time you had over the past two weeks, you would use to spend scanning his face a thousand times over - when your sight was not fortified by homework, that is.

“If Gwenog Jones likes women, I’m screwed,” he drawled, rolling his eyes at your previous comment and capturing your hands with his.

Slughorn was having a post-Halloween dinner party, and Gwenog Jones was going to be there. Though you didn’t play Quidditch yourself, you were a big fan of the game, and of the Holyhead Harpies. For extra entertainment, Theo had offered you three galleons if you succeeded in charming Gwenog away from Blaise, whom he had bet couldn’t kiss her before the night was over. You didn’t care so much about the money as the joke of the whole thing.

“Gwenog Jones has nothing on you,” you smirked and lifted up on your toes to catch his lips in yours.

“Can I give you three galleons to stay with me?” he mumbled against your lips, hands snaking around your hips.

“If I don’t go, Theo will be wasting his _hard-earned_ money.” He let out an amused moan as he kissed your cheek. “You didn’t answer my question,” you said, pulling away so you could see his face properly. He looked frustrated, both to be pulled away from the you and to talk about what had happened.

“She said she didn’t care, but her face said otherwise,” he deflated.

He had taken it upon himself to confront Pansy and try to mend their friendship, after what had happened at the common room party. “I don’t know what else to say to her. She said she was drunk, and it meant nothing, but I’m not thick – I knew she had feelings for me, I just thought she’d realise I didn’t feel the same and move on. I don’t know… hopefully things will just go back to normal.”

“You guys were really close; it wouldn’t have been a leap for her to think there could be more in it. She’ll move on, don’t worry. Everyone does,” you said kindly, though you weren’t so sure. “It’s not like she doesn’t have other boys after her. Only yesterday I overheard Miles Bletchley talking to his mates about how much he fancies her.”

He rolled his eyes. “He’s a twat.”

“Just a bit,” you chuckled, and nudged his arm. “She’ll come around. You’ve been friends forever.”

It pained you to say it, but you were only humouring him. He’d be better off without Pansy as a friend. You had lived in the same dorm as her for six years, and you knew you had only seen a fraction of how cruel she could be. Besides, you had often wondered if she even cared about him as a friend or if she saw him only as a conquest.

Since the news spread of you and Draco, she had decided to act as if neither of you existed. She would speak to everyone but the two of you, and while this didn’t make much of a difference to you – despite dorm room gossip sessions being very awkward – she had been Draco’s closest friend. Regardless of your opinions on Pansy, Draco was hurt by her silence.

“Yeah,” sighed Draco, woefully. “Come on, you’re gonna be late.” He took your hand and began to lead you.

“I’m sad you can’t come with me. We could have tried to coax Slughorn into a threesome.”

Draco loudly choked on a laugh and looked down at you with a raised eyebrow and his mouth ajar, smirking.

Every now and then, one of you would say something very suggestive offhandedly, or make a joke that twisted one’s thoughts to darkness; turning the air thick and the look you shared electric. It was never awkward – just absolutely thrilling. You patiently waited for the day when your teasing was quite literally put to bed.

“Ask Gwenog Jones and we could make it a foursome,” he drawled, and bit his lip.

“Right, I’m starting to think you fancy Gwenog Jones.”

——-

The scraping of your knife against the plate could barely be heard over the intense chatter and light muggle jazz music you were surprised to learn Slughorn enjoyed. Hermione had stayed loyally by your side since you arrived, which you had been grateful for, however the lingering stares Blaise was making at the Holyhead Harpies Captain from across the table suggested you may have to ditch her after the meal.

“She’s a bit full of herself, don’t you think?” asked Hermione in a hushed voice. You had to agree, Gwenog hadn’t taken a breath to stop talking about how capable she was at Quidditch. She seemingly had no other topic of conversation.

You nodded, and while Ginny whispered about how jealous she was of her job as Quidditch Captain, you found yourself catching eyes with Professor Slughorn. _Oh no._

“Miss Y/L/N!” he exclaimed immediately. “I don’t believe we’ve managed to have a proper chat since your return. How are you, my dear?” you opened your mouth to speak, but he cut you off. “And your father? Oh, I met him once, many years ago, you know. Your mother had invited me to tea… You must only have been a little one! Galloping gorgons, how time flies!” His eyes drifted for a moment, as if lost in thought. A Carrow twin coughed. “Oh! Your father works in the Muggle Ministry, does he not?” he quickly asked.

“He does, yes, sir. He’s well – as am I, thank you! How are _you_?” you asked, hoping to remove the spotlight away from yourself.

You were very curious about his friendship with your mother – and even now you still thought of what he had said on the train, when you first met. You would have to get him on his own to talk about it – there wasn’t a hope in Hell you wanted to talk about your parents in front of all these people.

“Oh-ho! Charming girl, you are. Just like your mother. I have to say, I would be better if the weather weren’t so dreary. I forget just how cold it gets up here in the Highlands. Especially after so many years away, you know…”

“Professor – ” McLaggan butted in, thankfully, and you turned back to talk to Hermione and Ginny for the rest of the dinner, careful not to catch Slughorn’s eye again.

Butterbeer was served after the dinner, and everyone moved from their seats to stand and converse with one another. You managed to steal a spot by Gwenog Jones, just as Blaise was making his way towards her, and so you both stood either side of her while she addressed a few others that gathered around.

Blaise narrowed his eyes at you, and you smiled sweetly in return, sending him a quick wink. You knew if he managed to get Gwenog’s attention first, you’d lose. The boy could charm a snake.

“It was a really tough game,” you heard Gwenog say, “but we pulled through in the end.”

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to the team,” you managed to say, just as Blaise opened his mouth. His eyes flashed with frustration, before very smoothly saying, “She’s right. They would crumble without you, Gwenog.”

Oh, he’s good. Everyone loves it when you address them by their name.

Her gaze settled on you first, looking you up and down. “You’re Y/N Y/L/N, aren’t you? Celine Rosier’s daughter?”

You nodded, “I am, yes.”

“Well… I was sorry to hear about your mum. I’d met her a few times at matches. Before I was Captain, of course. She was a lovely woman.” This made you smile; to know your mother had lived on in other people because they had such good opinions of her. It made you proud to be her daughter.

You couldn’t reply before Cormac McLaggan stuck his nose in once again and began spouting rubbish about how he was cheated of Keeper for the Gryffindor team. What a tosser.

——-

“COME HERE, YOU BEAUTIFUL WITCH!” Theo shouted from across the bustling common room, and you laughed as you made your way over to him, an unamused Blaise by your side.

You had successfully kept Gwenog away from Blaise all night, albeit not exactly charming her. In a desperate attempt to stop what was becoming a flirty conversation, you made an off-hand comment about how Quidditch could be really boring and sometimes you didn’t see the point in it. Gwenog’s head almost snapped off her neck and she gave you a twenty-minute lecture on why Quidditch was the best thing to ever happen in this world.

Theo picked you up and swung you around, kissing you on the cheek quickly before reaching into his pocket for your reward. Draco watched from behind him, looking quite frustrated at Theo’s attention. You rolled your eyes at him, trying to convey _‘shut up, it doesn’t mean anything’_ by your expression.

You knew he understood when he raised his eyebrows, and gave you a look that said, _‘are you sure about that?’_.

Theo placed three heavy, golden galleons into your hand, which he held as he turned around to Draco and said, “Malfoy, your girlfriend is brilliant! Marry her.”

Your heart stopped. _Girlfriend_. That word hadn’t been used before, by either of you. You hadn’t spoken about it, really, nor given it much thought. Things were just… happening. Was Draco your _boyfriend_? That felt like an intense label – you’d only been going out for about two weeks now. You knew you were exclusive, but still…

Draco looked just as shocked as you felt - if not _a lot_ more. He was staring at you vacantly, face dropping. You didn’t know how it made you feel. That wasn’t exactly a good sign.

He stayed silent, cogs whirling behind his eyes. He looked sickly. Theo had long moved on to boasting his victory to Blaise by the time Draco made any movement. A sudden blink and he seemed to snap out of it, and walked towards you with a soft smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Congratulations, winner. What will you do with _all that cash_?” he joked, and you decided to pretend Theo hadn’t said anything at all.

“I was thinking about buying a Manor. With this amount of money, I could probably get one bigger than yours, which is sure to impress the love of my life, Gwenog Jones.” His eyebrows furrowed and he pouted, pulling you into him and burying his face in your neck.

“Gwenog Jones can get fucked,” Draco mumbled, lips scraping your skin lightly. “ _Wait_ ,” he pulled away. “Not literally. Don’t _actually_ –” you kissed him to shut him up.

——-

A rosemary potato tumbled off your plate and onto the table next to you, and you sighed deeply. You had barely touched your food, opting for pushing it around the plate and distracting yourself with listening to the conversation around you.

You were ridiculously tired, having spent the whole of your Sunday in the library studying. You had tried to catch Draco at mealtimes, but he was nowhere to be found. You figured he had slept in, and that you had just missed him at lunch. But here you were at dinner, and he still hadn’t shown.

Things felt… off. He had been very needy the night before, practically begging you to stay with him in the common room long after everyone had gone to bed. Hands drifting further than ever before, getting a lot more heated than you had expected. You eventually had to move to one of the hidden seating areas, given that some of the portraits had started threatening to inform the teachers of your behaviour if you didn’t stop kissing in front of them. Not that you were complaining about this, you had more than enjoyed every single second of it – it was just _unexpected_.

When you finally made it upstairs, it was almost 4am, and you weren’t even sure if Draco went to bed after you. He had looked distraught that you were leaving him, which you couldn’t understand. You had all the time in the world to see him.

But then today he had been a complete no-show. You hoped he was alright. You figured he might just want some space, considering you’d barely left each other’s sides in two weeks. You couldn’t help but hope to see him later though, after your meeting with Dumbledore.

You had received a note from Dumbledore asking to visit his office at eight o’clock. You had been waiting for this meeting since you had found a photograph in your mother’s belongings, that showed a group of people, including your mother, a few professors from Hogwarts, Sirius Black, and who you could only assume to be Harry Potter’s parents. There were a few more familiar faces; friends and colleagues of your mothers, including the Weasley’s.

On the back of the photograph was written ‘Order of the Phoenix meeting, June 1978,’ meaning your mother had only been 19 years old at the time – fresh out of school and just starting out in the Ministry. You had been curious about this so-called Order, after finding more documents that suggested they were still active around the time of your mother’s death. You wanted to know as much as you can, and so you owled Hermione – the biggest brain you knew.

She hadn’t explained much until your return, where she explained that the Order had been a force against You-Know-Who and his followers in the first war, and that they were still active today. She, herself, was now a member. She explained that Harry and Ron were both practically members, but they technically had to wait until they were seventeen to be officially inducted. Dumbledore was the leader of the Order, and eager for you to follow in your mother’s footsteps, she said.

When the time neared eight o’clock, you gave up rolling potatoes around your plate and trotted up to the second floor.

“Acid Pops!” you spoke clearly to the gargoyle, guarding the staircase. When you reached the door to Dumbledore’s office, you lifted your hand to knock, but his voice sounded out before you got the chance. “Come in, Miss Y/L/N,” he said. You pushed the door open, and you were greeted with Dumbledore stroking the head of his Phoenix, Fawkes. “Ah! Good evening.”

This was the second time you had ever been in this office. The first had been on the night of September 1st, 1994. Dumbledore, joined by Professor Snape, had expressed condolences for your mother and advised you to come to them if you needed anything. You had cried as you walked back to your dorm. You cried a lot that year.

“Good evening, Professor,” you said kindly, and he motioned for you to sit at a chair across from his desk, with his blackened hand. You had noticed this at the beginning of the year, and it looked to be a cause for concern. He noticed your glance and shook his head, “A story for another night, perhaps.”

“I believe we have a lot to discuss,” he said, sitting in his own chair. “But first, I must ask a favour of you.”

You sat up straight. “Oh? How can I help you, sir?”

“Your mother – I believe – kept a lot of paperwork for the Order, over the years. Up until her death, she was very diligent with her information. I am searching for something in particular – a location that I believe she had been privy to. Can you advise if your father has kept such belongings of hers? I had a bit of hope, given that you had found that particular photograph from many years ago.”

“Actually, sir, we kept everything,” you said, feeling a wave of both sadness and pity for yourself and your father. “Her office is still exactly as it was. That’s… how I found the photo. I like spending time in there.”

The Professor looked at you with compassion, and said, “I am sorry for your loss. I only wish we had your mother and her magnificent bravery with us today. She was a force to be reckoned with,” your sadness turned to pride at his words.

“I know she would be proud of you, for not only your current interest in joining the Order, but for your cunning and courage last year. Being a part of Dumbeldore’s Army and joining the Inquisitorial Squad to keep your friends safe – it was ingenious of you. A true double-agent, as they say.” He winked playfully. “I know you will be an invaluable member of the Order, once you come of age.”

If he was trying to flatter you, it was working. “Thank you, sir,” you smiled.

“All in due time, of course. I may need your assistance in other matters; information and such. If you are, of course, okay with this?” He leaned his head, eyes peering over his thin spectacles, to view you fully.

“Yes, of course, Professor. I’m happy to help whenever and wherever I can.”

“Excellent! I am very glad to hear it,” he grinned, the sparkle in his eye still very prominent. You smiled back at him, and he continued, “If you would like to inform your father tomorrow, we will be able to pay him a visit this coming Saturday, if that works for you?”

You nodded. “Yes, sir, I’ll let him know.”

——-

You strolled along with a huddle of classmates towards the dungeons, Draco close behind you, but not close enough. He had been quite reserved over the course of the day. He spent his usual amount of time with you but seemed… preoccupied. Distracted. And since you hadn’t seen him at all yesterday, you felt uneasy. He claimed he had slept until after lunch and tried to catch up on homework in his rooms. He looked, however, as though he hadn’t slept at all. You couldn’t stop yourself from watching him carefully.

“Harry, for God’s sake, that book is dangerous!” you heard Hermione’s hushed judgement.

 _“Shut up!”_ Harry whisper-shouted back to her. The trio, you noticed, had been tense since your return. They were always quietly arguing with each other – Hermione and Ron more than anyone. You felt bad for Hermione, after finding out Ron had started seeing Lavender Brown. It’s no surprise she’s upset, given the obvious crush she’s harboured on the boy for years. Ron and Lavender’s sudden coupling had been a bit of a surprise upon your return, too. You thought he felt the same as Hermione.

You waltzed into the classroom, making your way to your usual spot, with Draco trailing behind you. Anthony Goldstein watched you over his shoulder as he walked past your table. You wondered if he was okay. He hadn’t spoken to you since that night he and Padma caught you with Draco.

Sighing, you rested your head in your hand. This day had been a long one – the amount of homework you were being given was ridiculous, and you still had much to catch up on after being at home – especially in Potions. You weren’t exactly looking forward to this lesson, but Draco was luckily an excellent Potions tutor. If he would speak to you, that is. His presence felt strange, you couldn’t understand why. He was like a quiet storm beside you. You didn’t really know what to say to him, and _‘are you okay?’_ had left your mouth far too many times already today.

“Afternoon, class!” Slughorn’s voice roared. “We have an exceptionally tricky potion to try today, but do not worry! Your best efforts, I’m sure, will be sufficient. Now, get out your books and equipment and I shall instruct you further.”

You bent down beside you, reaching into your bag for your scales and potion kit. Just as you were pulling out your scales, a small piece of parchment fell out of your bag and onto the floor. Confused, you placed your scales on the table before you reached down.

As you sat upright, you turned it over, only to read a single word written in black ink.

_Traitor._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song Rec: Are You - A R I Z O N A

“Can we bunk off for a bit?” you heard yourself say. You had spent the past half-hour dragging your feet through silent hallways, wishing you were back in your dorm and hiding under your blanket. “I’m – I really don’t feel like doing this, and my brain won’t shut up.”

Draco watched you cautiously for a moment. “What do you want to do?” he asked, carefully. 

You were silent for a moment. What did you want to do? You couldn’t go back to your dorms yet; it wasn’t even eleven o’clock, and if Snape found out you had ditched and gone back to your dorm, you’d get detention for Merlin-Knows how long. “Scream,” you joked – though you weren’t really joking. Your voice was deadly serious. “Go home,” again, you were serious. “Maybe cry.” 

He opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off by saying “Room of Requirement,” having a sudden brain wave. 

He shut his mouth and blinked dramatically, taking a step back. “Wh – what?”

“I want to go to the Room of Requirement,” you said plainly, quite unable to act like a civilized human. All you felt was anger as you marched toward the staircase.

After finding that note in your bag, all you could see was red. You had barely been able to speak. You would have entirely botched your potion, had Draco not taken over, guiding you on every step, holding your hand when cutting up ingredients, kissing your forehead every chance he got. If you weren’t so furious, you would have cried at his tenderness. His presence made you feel safe but did nothing for the fire that had begun to burn inside. 

He had taken the parchment out of your hand and scorched it with his wand – turning it to ash, so you no longer had to deal with it. You asked him not to tell anyone. He looked at you like you were insane, but you knew you’d be better off keeping it quiet. You weren’t stupid; you knew the person who cursed you would try their luck again. This time, you just had to be strong, and find them.

You were near the end of the corridor before you finally heard his footsteps following you. “What do you want to do in there?” he asked, sounding like he was trying to be casual.

“I just want to try something. I don’t know if it’ll work, but I want to find out.” 

He didn’t say anything else as he followed you up to the seventh floor. When you finally reached the blank wall opposite the Barnabas the Barmy tapestry, you paced three times in front of it. 

_“I need a place that feels like home. I need a place that feels like home. I need a place that feels like home,”_ you thought.

After a few moments, a white door appeared, and you sighed in relief at the sight of it. Draco looked like he might vomit. “Are you okay?” you asked, now genuinely concerned.

He had disappeared not long after Potions, after walking you to the common room and practically begging you to stay in your dorm until he came to get you for dinner. He didn’t eat anything at dinner, though neither did you; you spent the time scanning the Great Hall, letting your brain go wild in trying to figure out who your tormenter could be. After dinner, he took you back to the common room and promised to meet you back there at ten o’clock sharp for patrols.

Draco slowly nodded at your question.

You examined him for a moment longer before taking his word for it and slowly opening the door, revealing an exact replica of your bedroom at home – down to the scent of the vanilla candles and the thin layers of dust on your bookshelf. 

You felt a huge weight lift from your chest, and the capacity to be a nice, normal human suddenly return. 

“This is… my bedroom,” you said, looking at his now very curious and relieved expression. What had he been worried about? You closed the door behind you. Draco stood next to you, looking around hungrily at this completely new environment. You supposed he may not have seen a bedroom like it before, and you wondered how different this was to his bedroom at home. 

He walked slowly towards your bedside table. “What’s this about?” he asked, picking up the muggle paperback that you had been in the middle of reading before you abruptly returned to Hogwarts.

“It’s about a woman from the 1940s who accidentally time travels back to 18th century Scotland while she was on her honeymoon,” he raised his eyebrows as he skimmed through the pages, and you sat at the bottom of your bed, watching him intently. “She tries to get back to her time – to her husband – but she finds her soulmate and ends up staying,” you continued. He looked at you then, eyes roaming your face. He swallowed and put the book down carefully, running his hands over the metal base of your bedside lamp, which was cast a warm light over the room.

He walked towards the guitar you had mostly abandoned and strummed lightly. He jumped, shocking himself with how loud it was. You bit back a laugh as he quickly put his hands behind his back, so as not to touch anything else that would make a noise.

His eyes caught sight of the bouquet of white hydrangeas that sat in a vase on your windowsill. The window itself was dark, imitating the night. You could see the faint glow of streetlights, as if you were actually home.

“I can’t believe you kept them,” he mumbled, as his fingers gently smoothed over a leaf.

“Of course, I kept them,” you said. “It meant more to me than you know; sending your condolences. And the crystallised pineapple. I loved that you remembered,” you smiled gently.

He returned the smile, and joined you, sitting on the opposite side of the bed. That was the first smile he’d given you since the night of Slughorn’s dinner party. He lifted up his leg and turned to face you properly, and ran his hand across the duvet, trying to get a sense of you. Taking a deep breath, he said slowly, “I was sad we had grown apart, back then. We were really good friends,” he paused, taking a slow breath. “I couldn’t not say anything, though. I knew how close you were to your mother.”

You felt sad about this too – you had been very good friends. But when Draco wasn’t around you, he wasn’t a nice person, and you knew you couldn’t trust or be friends with someone like that. Quite honestly, you didn’t even know what kind of person he was now, when he wasn’t around you. But the person he was with you made you hope that he extended this version of himself to other parts of his life.

To you, he was whip-smart, incredibly caring, and as much as you hated to admit it, terribly funny. He was more insecure than he’d ever let on, which you always found maddening, because he was everything a person could ever hope to be. He was impatient with most things, but patient with you. He was kind. He would tease you relentlessly in a way that made you feel seen – he paid attention to you. He was open to talking (and arguing) about anything and everything, and you would. Well, all except for one topic.

Muggles. 

You had quite purposefully avoided having a serious discussion about muggles, though when you would sometimes mention your father, or muggle things you liked, you’d study his reactions carefully. He always had that same boy-like wonder on his face, listening to your every word, and it was heart-warming, but you never knew if you could trust it. How could you, after all of the things he had said and done?

Everything about being with him felt so right, it was unbelievable. Every touch, every glance, every joke – it all connected with such ease, and you wanted to kick yourself for ever being apart from him. So, if you brought it up and he said the wrong thing… it would break your heart, twice over. You had waited for him to be this person in front of you for years – and here he was. All grown up, and exactly the person you knew he always could be. But was he, really? Who was he when you weren’t there?

“I was sad, too,” you said truthfully. “I remember the summer after first year when you sent me an owl, and it was the first owl I’d ever gotten from a friend. Mum read it straight after me and called you my boyfriend from then on, no matter how many times I told her we were strictly platonic,” you almost laughed. You wondered what your mum would be thinking now, if she could see you with Draco.

“Sounds like your mum was a seer,” he smirked softly, gently moving a stray hair from your face, and tucking it behind your ear. You smiled, letting out a breathy laugh, and your hand followed his as he removed it from your hair, and you interwove your fingers. ‘ _That’s better_ ,’ you thought.

“She was a pain sometimes, but she was the _best_ ,” you smiled. You had an image in your head of her in her pyjamas one night when you couldn’t sleep, a few weeks before she died. She made hot chocolate, and you drank it with her, cuddled up on the sofa as she stroked your hair.

“She mentioned you a few days before… well, she asked how you were. I said I didn’t know – that we didn’t talk much – and she asked why we ‘broke up’.” You hadn’t told her why you drifted from Draco – you were too scared to tell her. When she asked that day, you said you ended up in different friendship groups, and that you didn’t see much of him outside of lessons or mealtimes. It wasn’t exactly a lie. 

He didn’t laugh or smile. His eyes flickered around your face for a moment, his expression stoic when he asked, “Why _did_ we break up?”

You held your breath. You led him to this question but now that he had asked it, you weren’t sure you wanted to talk about it anymore. However, something about the day you had made you bolder than usual. 

“You called Hermione Granger a mudblood,” was what came out of your mouth. His face dropped and he grew considerably paler. You didn’t let go of his hand. “After that, I… didn’t know what you thought of me. My dad, being a muggle, and all. I was confused; you’d never seemed to care about it before, and then suddenly…” you trailed off, trying to gather your thoughts.

You looked at your hands, the crinkled bedsheets, the blank wall. Anywhere but Draco’s face as you continued to speak.

“I love my dad,” you spoke quietly. “He’s the kindest man I’ve ever met. My mum loved him, and he loved her with everything he had. And everything he had – it was enough for her. He never needed magic. His life – their life – was… whole,” you paused, and stared at the hydrangeas on the windowsill.

“After my mother died, I could tell people pitied me – not just for her death, but because now all I had was my muggle father. I could see it on their faces, and I wanted to scream at them every time, because just like my mother, my dad was always enough for me. He was and is everything I could ever ask of a parent, and more,” you could feel your blood rising. “He’s always been there for me, and some people don’t even have that. I’m _lucky_ to have him.” You could feel a rant coming, and you didn’t have enough control to stop it. These words had been inside of you for so long.

“I just – I’ve never understood why people are so obsessed with the idea of being better than muggles, because they’re _exactly the same as us_. They’re human. So, they can’t turn a mouse into a teacup, or apparate across the country. So what? My mother was murdered for being in love with a human man, and my now that man is alone and his heart is broken, and it will never fully heal, because of people like your – ” you stopped immediately. You were going to say like Draco’s father. By the look on his face, he knew this, too.

You swallowed hard and let go of his hand. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, turning around so your back was to him. _Fuck_. _Fuck. Fuck!_ You hadn’t wanted to say that at all. It felt like you were taking what happened today out on him. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean…”

He was silent.

The only sounds to be heard were your deep, disorganised breathing and the clock on your bedside table ticking. You knew how much he loved his family. His father being in Azkaban likely took a massive tole on him. You should have thought this through more. What were you thinking!? 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, turning to face him. “He’s your dad. You love him. _I’m sorry_.”

Draco was staring at the wall vacantly and gave no indication that he heard you. He didn’t even seem to be breathing.

“Draco –” 

“I love him,” he whispered coarsely, and swallowed, still looking at the wall in front of him. “I love him.” It came out stronger this time. “But I’m not… him. I don’t –” he stopped. The words seemed painful to speak. You thought you saw a tear running down his cheek before he turned to face the window.

“I don’t want to be like him.”

This should have made you feel relieved, but it only made you feel worse for the boy in front of you. He would forever live in the shadow of his father’s crimes. You stared at his broad back, and the bare neck above his shirt. His head bowed a little, and you saw him scratching at his forearm over his robes.

There wasn’t an appropriate response you could think of, so you slowly lifted yourself from your side of the bed and walked around to sit next to him. There were tear stains on his cheeks – he had been crying. You had intended to hold his hand, but seeing his face made you change your mind. Instead, you relived your time in the hospital wing.

You slowly wound your arms around his neck and were immediately greeted with his arms sliding around your waist. You placed a soft, slow kiss under his ear as you whispered, “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” His voice was sturdy; determined. Then, in a desperate, strangled whisper, he said, “I can’t lose you.”

You almost cried then, but you knew, somehow, that he would never lose you. You would always be his. You hugged him tighter and you felt a hot tear slide down past your collar. “I’m going to start carrying around two flowers with me, just in case,” you whispered, and you felt him smile against your neck.

Time ticked on, and you spent it in that position. Neither of you wanting to let go, though eventually you knew you should. When you finally did, going back to your dorm was the last thing you wanted to do, and detention felt like the absolute least of your worries. So, you took off your shoes. 

“Take off your shoes,” you said, and you walked over to the chest of drawers, hoping to find pyjamas. _Bingo_. “Do you want to stay with me?” you asked, pulling out a pair of white and green checked pyjamas. He stared at you, wide-eyed, obviously very confused by what was happening.

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for a response, pretending like this was a totally normal question. “Mhmm,” was all you got, and his panicked face amused you. You smiled as you said, “Okay, good.”

You turned and rifled through the drawer, practically giddy that he was going to stay here with you. You hated to admit it, but he made you feel safe. Whenever he was around, you were sure everything would be okay.

As you browsed your pyjama drawer for options, you found some emerald green button-down pyjamas you had never seen before. Picking them up, they seemed to be too big for you. The Room must have put them there, somehow knowing what you intended to do before even you did. When you turned around, he was still on the bed, his shoes placed neatly in front of his feet. His robe lay on the bed, by his side. He was scratching his ear.

You handed him the pyjamas, and said, “Okay, you stay facing that way while I get changed.” He hummed in understanding, and only when you started to undress did you hear him do the same.

“Okay, I’m done,” you said, still facing the other way. “Me too,” you heard.

He was not done. When you turned around, he was pulling on the pyjama bottoms over his legs, flashing his black boxers. You mentally noted that had never seen his bare legs before. He stood up straight, and once he was happy with where the waistband of his bottoms sat, he let out a deep breath, arms falling to his side. It was so strange seeing him like this. Homely. Normal. It felt incredibly intimate. You hadn’t seen him in pyjamas since first year, when you used to sneak into the common room to spend more time together.

“Nice pyjamas,” he quipped, trying to smirk, but it just came out as an adoring smile, and you practically skipped towards the bed, ready to be close to him again.

“We sort of match,” you said. You lifted up the covers and slid onto the bed, feeling the weight of Draco getting in next to you. You turned off the bedside lamp before you lay down, darkness covering the room like a blanket. The only source of light was the soft glow from the streetlights that came in through the window. You half-expected to hear the sound of your dad snoring from across the hallway.

When your head hit the pillow, Draco was already laying down, facing you. You turned on your side to face him. The outline of his face only just visible, though his silver eyes were clear as day. You leaned in slowly and took his bottom lip in yours. This was everything you needed – to be here, with him. In _your_ bed – which, while technically not your actual bed, smelled as though you had previously slept in it, though all you could focus on was the amber of his cologne and the fact he was in your bedroom. 

“This whole room smells like you,” he whispered, as you nudged noses. “I don’t really want to leave.”

“Me either,” you whispered. “I like having you here.” You felt him smile, and you pecked his lips again. “Maybe you could visit the real one sometime.”

His eyelashes fluttered against your skin as he leaned in for another kiss, humming against your lips in response.

“Are you tired?” Draco asked, and you nodded. “Me too. More than I thought.” 

“Turn around,” you said, and saw his brows furrow. “Turn around,” you repeated. His lips were suddenly on yours, his hand making its way to your hip. You leaned further into it, swiping your tongue against his top lip, and he groaned quietly. He pulled back slowly, as if in pain, and turned himself over. You regretted your request immediately. He got comfortable, and you leaned in to spoon him. When he realised what you were doing, he shot up. 

“No, you turn around,” he commanded.

“What? No, I like it this way. I’m used to –”

“No,” he said very firmly. “I like being at the back. I’m bigger than you.” You scoffed and flipped over, knowing fine well you’d end up losing the argument.

“Toxic masculinity,” you murmured as you wriggled around to get comfortable, though the moment his arm was hanging over your waist, and his legs tucked in neatly behind yours, you could no longer complain. 

“You need to stop giving love and learn how to take it,” he reprimanded, and it made you feel all sorts of things. “Lift up your head,” he uttered, breath brushing over your ear and your toes curled. You did as he requested, and his other arm slid under your neck, supporting you. 

“You’ll have a dead arm, later,” you giggled. He kissed your neck, right under your ear, and you drew a sharp breath.

“It’ll be worth it,” he whispered, again so close to your ear that his breath tickled you. You wanted to scold him for being a tease, and you wanted to continue talking, and kissing, but you were so tired. This was the first time you felt content in two days.

You wiggled around to get comfortable, and Draco hissed. You laughed as he growled, “You did that on purpose.”

“Mmm, you deserved it.” You were glad he couldn’t see your face, looking very smug.

He tutted and nudged his nose against the back of your head, then leaned over to bite the edge of your ear. Your breath was ragged when he whispered, “Good night.”

You knew if you didn’t say goodnight now, you might never say it. “Good night, Draco.” His arm gripped tighter around your waist. 

It wasn’t long before you began to drift, the sound of Draco’s steady breathing lulling you to sleep. Your whole body heavy against the bed. So, when you heard a voice whisper, “I love you,” you thought you were dreaming, and fell deeper into your slumber.


End file.
